


Lyrics In A Bottle

by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: American Sign Language, Drowning, Human!Pete, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Little Mermaid AU, M/M, Merfolk AU, Merman!Patrick, Mermen AU, Siren!Patrick, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 105,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahyperactiverhero/pseuds/ahyperactivehero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyrics shoved into bottles keep showing up in the ocean, and Patrick can't help but sing them once he reads them. It's not helped by the fact that he feels sorry for the human that writes them and throws them into the ocean nearly everyday. So when the lyrics start to come less frequently, Patrick begins to worry. What could have happened to this human named "Pete"? A suicide letter and a rescue mission later, and Patrick is willing to do anything to help this human.</p>
<p>A cursed bottle is all he needs, and the trade for his siren voice for a pair of human legs is struck. Too bad he failed to listen to all of the rules before making his deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That's My Message

It had been a week since the last bottle had been tossed into the sea, and Patrick would be lying if he said he wasn't worried. It was never this long of a wait in between bottles. Had he missed it when he was out doing his job? 

No, he'd been there everyday at the time they usually showed up. He just hadn't found one yet.

“While I'm all for this rebellious streak you've got going on, can you please at least do something fun with it?” Brendon said from behind him.

Patrick tore his eyes away from the surface, blinking away the sun spots that had been seared into his eyes. “Not everyone is up for your definition of 'fun', Brendon,” Patrick said. He turned his focus back to the surface, ears straining for the splash of a bottle hitting the water.

Brendon smiled, not bothered by his friend's cold shoulder. “Hey, the dude had cute buns. I just thought they'd look better free of his swimming trunks.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “And they're worried that it's going to be me who gets us caught,” he said. At least he was staying away from humans and not tearing their clothes off. Not that Brendon actually did it that often, but still.

Brendon dropped his smile, although his joking air was still there. “Well that's because you're just floating here, waiting to get netted. You're not even moving or anything.”

Patrick said nothing. How was he supposed to tell him that he couldn't move because then he might miss the splash of the bottle or the guy from the pier's laughter? That he might not ever have a full song from him if he didn't pick up every bottle he threw. That even though he'd never actually seen the guy, he was completely head over fins for him and the way he wrote about the world.

He swam around in front of Patrick. He grabbed him by the shoulders and swished his dark violet tail through the water, gently slapping at Patrick's own, still tail.

“Seriously, man, what are you doing? This is way too close to the humans to spend so long here,” he said. It was obvious that he wasn't going to let the issue go any time soon, so Patrick sighed blowing out a stream of bubbles at him.

“He hasn't sent a bottle in a week, Brendon. A week. Who knows what's going on with him? Who knows what might have happened,” Patrick said.

Brendon shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe he's out there living his life and not polluting the ocean with glass bottles?”

If Patrick was completely honest with himself, that was almost what he was afraid of. What if this guy, Pete, as he usually signed his letters with, found someone who he wanted to read his lyrics to? Who would sing them back to him like Patrick wanted to do? If he found someone to do that with, would he even bother throwing bottles into the sea like hopeless wishes?

The purple tailed merman could see what he had said had really hurt his friend. He slid his arm around Patrick's shoulders, drifting them down deeper into the water and away from the shore and pier. “Listen, he's probably just busy. It can't be that easy to come up with new lyrics every time he comes to the beach, right? He's probably just going through writer's block or whatever.”

“You think so?” Patrick asked.

Brendon pulled an exaggeratedly serious face as he nodded his head. “Oh yeah, I'm sure. C'mon, Trick, people come to the beach to relax. Having to keep up this steady stream of depressing lyrics must be the exact opposite.”

“Hey,” Patrick said defensively. “They're not all depressing.”

Brendon smiled again. “Oh, they're not? Well, it must just be the way you sing them then,” he teased.

Patrick shoved him off, both of them laughing. They sped around the bottom of the ocean, barely even disturbing the sand on the ocean floor. While Brendon's tail was long and slender and great for sharp turns, Patrick's was shorter and broader, great for quick, powerful strokes. In a straight, fair race a tail like Patrick's would usually win.

“Stop changing directions! You know I can't do that that fast,” Patrick whined. His own, blue tail swished through the water, stirring up some sand in his wake.

A smile was covering Brendon's face, a laugh slipping out. Just as suddenly as it started though, it stopped. His eyes were focused above Patrick, towards the surface.

Patrick swirled around, fear in his heart as to what could be behind him. He feared it might be a human, one who would do him and his friend harm.

Thankfully, it was just a bottle. A bottle that Patrick had been waiting on for a week.

He turned back to look at Brendon, and the two of them made eye contact. In a second a challenge was issued, with the bottle as the main prize.

Patrick swam fast but Brendon was faster. A painful look over took Patrick's face as he chased after Brendon.

“Give it to me,” Patrick said. Even his voice sounded pained.

Brendon paused in his chase. He looked over Patrick, his eyes lingering on Patrick's tail for more than a moment. 

“Is your tail okay?” Brendon asked. He shifted the bottle back and forth in his hands, staring at Patrick the whole time. “Shit, it probably wasn't a good idea, making you swim like that.”

A grimace was still on Patrick's face, yet he was waving the idea away. “No, it's fine. Everyone says that I need to exercise it more anyways.”

Brendon didn't seem to be convinced. “Still, if it's hurting,” he trailed off, not knowing how to end it.

“It's scarred Brendon, it's probably always going to hurt,” Patrick said sadly.

He glanced down at his tail, taking in the deep scar running down across the bottom of it, diagonally above his fins. Most days he forgot about the scar, but sometimes when he moved it too much, like the race between him and Brendon, it pulled something inside and caused him intense pain.

“Here,” Brendon said, holding out the bottle to Patrick. He took it thankfully, glad to have something to look forward to.

“But you really should stay away from the shore” Brendon said. He held up his hand to stop Patrick, who had instantly went on the defensive. “At least until you're absolutely better. At this rate, you wouldn't be able to get away from a rowboat.”

Patrick glanced towards the bottle in his hands before floating towards the surface.

“Whoa! Where are you going?” Brendon asked.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Well I can't open it down here, the pages will get destroyed.”

“Have you heard a word I've said?”

“Not really.”

A few moments later both he and Brendon had reached the surface. The sky was wide open and blue above them, sea birds chirping in the distance. Patrick couldn't help to wonder what the world looked like to them from up there.

Air always felt weird against Patrick's skin. It felt light, yet pressurized. It had just the wrong sort of pressure to it. Hardly any merfolk from his colony ever went above the water anymore, not even to sun themselves on the wide, flat rocks that littered the coast. This was mainly due to the fact that there were more humans hanging around the beaches in recent years. Not to mention the hunters that had even more recently popped up.

Brendon surfaced next to him, his eyes flicking towards the shore and pier a ways off. “This is kind of one of those things I mentioned you needed to stay away from,” he said nervously. He was always a risk taker, yet when it came to the two of them both doing something risky he shut down in a ball of nervous energy.

Patrick ignored him for the moment, instead choosing to focus on getting the bottle open. It was usually pretty hard to do without his improvised bottle opener made from a rock. But that was back home in his cave, and he really couldn't wait until he got back there to open it.

“It's fine I do this all the time,” Patrick said, struggling to open the bottle. The cork was shoved down deep inside the neck, thus making it nearly impossible to get out. “We're far enough away that no one will see out tails but close enough that no one will think that we need help. Like I said, it's fine.”

His friend pulled at his arm, trying to pull him back under the water. “How many times have you done this?” he asked, slight panic in his tone.

Patrick gave him a soft, understanding smile. “Almost every time I get a letter,” Patrick said.

Finally, he popped the cork out, enabling him to pull a single sheet of paper free from the bottle. It was rolled up, as it usually was, with scratchy black ink stretching across the paper.

The letter was short, despite the week it had taken to write. It gave a brief run down of what had happened in his life that week, almost like a diary entry, and only two lines of lyrics scratched at the bottom. 

Patrick frowned as he read the letter over. This poor human! His letters always had a touch of sadness and desperation in them, but this letter just seemed to be weighed down in it. The diary entries were usually shorter than the one contained in this letter, with the lyric part of it usually being longer. It just seemed like a strange letter for the human to write.

“What's wrong?” Brendon asked. He'd watched Patrick's smile turn into a frown and his happy vibes melt into a dark cloud.

He shook his head. “It's just... The letter's so sad.”

Brendon snorted. “Dude's throwing messages in bottles into the ocean and doesn't even know that they're being read. Of course they're sad.”

Patrick shook his head. “No. I mean, they're really sad. He's just going through some rough things. Like, his girlfriend and him were fighting and he's just got in a few fights...” Patrick said, eventually trailing off.

Brendon waved his hands in front of Patrick. “Wait a second. You're crushing on not only a human, but a straight, male one?” he asked in disbelief. “Well aren't you a glutton for heartache.”

Patrick sputtered, completely embarrassed. “I never said I was in love with the guy!” 

His friend winked. “Neither did I.”

Patrick spluttered again, but Brendon went ahead and cut him off. “Just tell me what lyrics he wrote this time.”

Patrick sighed, knowing he'd lost. He looked down at the lyrics, wondering how they should sound. What tune or rhythm would go well with them? How would “Pete” want them to be sang?

He cycled through some lyrics he had already gotten from past bottles and tried to make some of them fit together. It wouldn't have made sense to just sing two lines to Brendon. That was hardly even worth it or enough to show how much he enjoyed his lyrics.

_We're the new face of failure, prettier and younger but not any better off, bulletproof loneliness at best, at best...._

Brendon smiled at Patrick's voice. Patrick knew that he wasn't really enchanting him. Not the way he could humans, but Brendon always made him feel better about singing. When they'd been younger, before they had truly discovered how much of a siren Patrick was, he had been the one encouraging Patrick to sing. Even after they discovered that fact, he still encouraged him, helping to find ways Patrick could use his gift. 

This was how Patrick became the siren who led people away from his colony of merfolk. If fishermen or hunters or pesky swimmers ever get to close to their home, Patrick would swim out and lead them away until someone gave him the 'all good' and he could turn around and come home. One of their friends, Gabe, usually laughed and pointed out that Patrick was supposed to drown his prey, not confuse them and leave them for the coast guard to find.

Unfortunately, it didn't always go according to plan. There had been many close calls over the years, but none as close as the one that earned him his scar. 

He'd been leading a boat of hunters away from his colony, as usual, when one of them broke his spell. He had been an older man, possibly loosing his hearing, and he'd somehow been able to break out of Patrick's song. The first thing he had done once breaking free was shoot off a harpoon. While it didn't sink into Patrick's tail, as intended, it had skimmed it, causing the huge scar and an incredible amount of pain. After that, the group tended to keep Patrick a bit closer to home, not wanting to loose their friend or their protection against the humans.

Patrick sang those lines a few times, changing a few things about it each time, testing and trying things out. He smiled as he sang, bobbing his head up and down and Brendon even joined in for a moment.

Suddenly, Brendon stopped. He jerked his head around, gazing at the pier. Patrick stopped singing, wondering what had caused him to stop and stare. He squinted his eyes but he couldn't see anything. Everything past a certain distance was nothing but a blur.

“Dive, go, go, go, go!” Brendon said, shoving Patrick under water.

The panic in his voice forced Patrick to listen to his younger friend. He barely registered that the letter was soaked and tearing apart in his fingers, and the bottle was missing.

Brendon kept a hand latched onto his arm, dragging him along through the water. Patrick swished his fin faster, ignoring the pain it caused and hoping he could keep caught up with his friend.

Eventually, once Brendon had decided they'd gotten far enough away, he'd let go of Patrick's arm, instead swimming along ahead of him and hoping he was still following.

“What the hell was that?” Patrick asked. He looked at his hands, looking for the letter. When he didn't see it he twisted and twirled in the water, hoping that it was still somehow alright.

“I dropped the letter!” he exclaimed. He turned around, intending to head back and try and find it.

Brendon, however, had other ideas. He grabbed onto Patrick's arm again and refused to let him leave.

“We were seen, Patrick,” Brendon said. “You can't go back for the letter now. Besides, it's probably torn apart by now.”

“We get seen all the time, Brendon. Why did you almost rip my arm out of socket?” Patrick asked.

Brendon crossed his arms. “Are you also heard by humans all the time?”

Patrick furrowed his brows at Brendon. “What are you talking about?”

Brendon waved an arm back to the shore and swished his tail anxiously through the water. “Some guy, black hair, black clothes, was standing on the pier listening to you. Like, looking right at you.” He placed both hands on Patrick's shoulders and shook him, just enough to try and keep his attention. “What were you thinking? Like, you weren't thinking of telling anyone anything specific were you?”

Patrick tried to think. He hadn't really been thinking of anything when he had been singing, just that he hoped “Pete's” life got better. But that wasn't really how siren powers worked. He couldn't just magically wish for things to happen. He had to focus on what he wanted people to do, although he had been known to accidentally enchant random surfers. Usually they just floated around on the surface with their boards for a while before heading back to land.

Patrick just shook his head and shrugged. He couldn't think of a single thing that he possibly could have been thinking about.

The younger of the two looked behind them. It was as if he was making sure that they hadn't been followed, even though it was impossible for a human to travel that fast without a boat.

“I'm sorry,” Brendon said. “I really didn't see him standing there. I guess I should have looked before basically asking you to sing. Especially since I know you can't see that far away.”

“What are you guys doing?” Gabe asked.

Both Brendon and Patrick jumped as if they had just been caught doing something illegal. Although, for all intents and purposes, Patrick sort of had.

“What was that about Patrick singing?” their other friend, Travie, asked.

Patrick gave both of them a nervous smile. “Uh, nothing?” he said hesitantly. He was a terrible liar when it came to important things like this.

Gabe and Travie glanced between each other and then to the other two mermen there. It didn't exactly take a genius to figure out they were hiding something.

“Uh-huh,” Travie said. “So what exactly is that on your hands?”

Patrick looked down and noticed that his hands were stained with ink from Pete's letter. His heart ached as he though about the words that were now lost. If he had the ability to write or anything to write with he might have tried to put them down so he could have them memorized.

“You went for another letter, didn't you?” Gabe asked. He batted his eyelashes at Patrick, clearly in a teasing mood now.

Patrick threw his arms up. “How does everyone know about these letters?” he asked. The only person he had ever talked about them with had been Brendon, yet it seemed as if half their colony knew about them.

“Please, you keep swimming around here like a love sick guppy and you don't think someone's going to notice?” Travie asked.

A red blush spread across his face. He crossed his arms over his bare chest as if that would stop the teasing. He hadn't thought that he'd been that obvious about them, really he hadn't.

“So where is it?” Gabe asked. He swam in a small circle around Patrick, as if he might be hiding it somewhere.

“I dropped it when we were heading over here,” Patrick said reluctantly. He didn't want the others to ask why he had dropped it, because then that would just lead to a discussion about how close they had come to being actually “seen” by a human.

“You dropped it?” Travie asked, doubt clear in his voice. He'd seen the well organized collection of bottles Patrick had “hidden” in the cave he called home. All of them were sealed airtight, tied up in a net inside his home. It sounded unlikely that the siren had just dropped it.

The sadness in Patrick's eyes though, told him that it must have been true. He never looked that sad after getting a letter.

Gabe crossed his arms. It was apparent that he wasn't buying their story. “Where'd you drop it?” Gave asked. “We'll go back and get it. Maybe it's still okay.”

“No!” Patrick and Brendon yelled in unison. They moved to grab Gabe, fear that their friend might be hurt by any humans who had caught Patrick's song.

“Ha!” Gabe pointed at them. “You guys are hiding something.” He elbowed Travie, a smile on his face. “What did you guys do?”

The two younger mermen stuttered around, both flailing around for an answer. It quickly became apparent that they weren't going to be able to find any excuse for their behavior. It would just be easier to tell them the truth and deal with whatever the consequences would be.

“We went too close to the humans,” Patrick said, reluctantly. “We think one of them heard me.”

The teasing smiles on Gabe and Travie's faces slid off in a heartbeat. This was clearly not the answer either one of them had been expecting.

“You were heard?” Travie asked. He swam closer to them, inspecting them. When no injuries were readily noticeable he calmed down. “By who?”

“No one. Just some guy on the pier,” Brendon said. “It wasn't a hunter. He might not have even heard though. I just think he was looking in our direction, not at us.” 

His downplay of this situation clearly wasn't helping.

“Dammit, Patrick, that's the third time someone's heard you this month” Travie said. “And Brendon that makes about the eighth time you've been seen.”

Gabe ran a hand through his short hair. He looked back towards the beach, almost as if he was afraid someone might be coming after them. Which he honestly might have been.

“You know those “hunters” or whatever it is they're calling themselves have been coming around here a lot more lately. We can't risk anyone being seen... or heard,” Gabe said.

Patrick hung his head. He really hadn't meant to be heard by anyone, honestly. His voice tended to just come out of him when he read Pete's lyrics, almost like an unstoppable force.

Travie shook his head. “Nothing we can do now I guess,” he said. “But you guys are banned from going to the surface or that close to shore for a while.”

Brendon nodded sadly, as if he were defeated. Everyone knew that he'd be back to doing both of those things in less than a week though.

Patrick, however, was in a panic. If he couldn't even go up to the surface then he wouldn't even be able to read the letters he already had, much less wait for new letters to come. And after that heartbreaking letter, he was certainly ready for another one.

“But the letters,” Patrick started.

“No, Patrick. Forget the letters for a while, okay? It'll probably do your head some good to get away from them for a while anyways,” Travie said. He slung an arm around his friend's shoulders and poked him in his chubby stomach. “I'm sure the rest of the colony will agree with us, too.”

Patrick didn't think he'd be able to last without his letters. They were what he looked forwards to, they were the words he sang to all the tunes he had stuck in his head. What was he supposed to to sing without Pete's lyrics? He was positive that his siren calls would not be nearly as enchanting without them.

He chose to say nothing.


	2. A Drowning Of Air and Water

A week later Brendon swam up to the cavern Patrick called home. He glanced inside, only seeing the bottles held together by a net against the ceiling. The sun that was filtering in hardly allowed for much sight, though.

“Patrick?” Brendon asked.

Patrick groaned. The last thing he wanted that day was for Brendon to come around. All he wanted to do was sleep and wallow in his misery.

“Oh, there you are,” Brendon said, floating into Patrick's home.

Patrick rolled over from the bed of seaweed he had gathered. The corner he was laying in was dark, really only his shiny blue scales peaking out and reacting to the bit of sunlight that was streaming in.

“What do you want, Brendon?” Patrick asked, a little harsher than he meant to.

Thankfully Brendon didn't take any offense to it, “Well, I want you to stop being depressed and come outside for once.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “But I know you need a bit of motivation so, here you go.”

Patrick sat up as a bottle, tied to a rock, was thrown at him. He squinted in confusion at the bottle. It was odd, none of the other bottles had ever been tied down before. That sort of defeated the point of it being a message in a bottle.

“Where did you get this?” Patrick asked. “No, a better question is, how did you get this?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I'm magic.”

Again Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Brendon said. “I snuck away when Travie and Gabe weren't looking. When I got to the spot your lover boy always tosses his letters I saw that, stuck to the bottom of the ocean floor in the sand.”

This really was odd. He'd never tied or weighed the bottle down before, despite having thrown at least twenty bottles as far as Patrick was aware. What could have changed that?

Patrick's excited yet confused face fell. “I still can't read it though,” Patrick said. “I can't go above water.” He floated back down to the bottom of his cave, dragging the bottle with him.

“C'mon, we can go for just a second,” Brendon said. “Then we can come back here and just pretend it never happened.”

If Patrick was being honest, it didn't take much to convince him. One line from Brendon and they were basically racing towards the surface. All he'd needed was the knowledge that someone else would be breaking the rules with him.

Once they reached the surface Brendon instantly went on high alert. Out of the corner of his eyes Patrick could see him looking around everywhere, trying to spot any boats that might be coming too close to them for comfort.

Patrick carefully dumped the letter from the bottle into his hand. Without even seeing it he knew there was something different about it. Patrick might not be a Seer like some other merfolk, but he did trust his gut when it came to problems like this.

The black inky scrawl was just the same as always, confirming beyond a doubt that it was Pete's letter. It was the words within the letter that seemed to be off.

_The world would be better off_ , was the first line. Already Patrick wanted to hurl. _No one would really miss me._

Patrick could feel his eyes growing wide as he read the letter. He'd never read one before but he knew without a doubt exactly what this was. A suicide letter. The further he read, the sicker he felt.

“You okay?” Brendon asked. “You're looking a little green around the gills.”

Patrick wasn't in the mood for Brendon's fish puns. He genuinely thought he'd be sick right then and there.

_I always loved the pier. I think it might be a good place to rest. Maybe even hear a siren's call one more time._

Patrick gasped, nearly dropping the letter. Thankfully, Brendon caught it, anticipating that Patrick wasn't capable of putting it away securely.

“Hey, hey, what did the letter say? Are you okay?” Brendon asked. He dragged his friend back down hoping the water would snap him out of it.

“He's gonna die,” Patrick said, shocked. “He might already be dead.”

Brendon placed his hands on his shoulders, giving him a tiny shake. He hated to see his friend like this. “Hey, no, no. I'm sure he's fine. I'm sure.”

He pulled away from him, shoving his arms away and swimming back a bit. “It's a suicide letter, Brendon! He's definitely not 'fine'.”

The younger merman's eyes grew huge. He'd seen the effect not being able to read the human's letters for a week had had on the blond merman. He'd honestly hate to see what would happen to his friend if anything had actually happened to the human.

Patrick pulled on his hair, panic clearly settling in. “I've got to go to the pier. Now.” He didn't even wait for a reply. He shot off through the water, ignoring when his tail began to spasm from overuse.

Brendon was right behind him. He grabbed a hold of Patrick's fins, hoping the pain would register enough to stop his friend. It barely did.

“Ow! Let me go!” Patrick said. He ripped his tail from Brendon's grip, glaring at him the whole time.

Brendon used his distraction to his advantage. He grabbed onto Patrick's arms, trying to haul him back to safety.

“I can't do that. Do you know what day it is? There's some festival going on up there and there are too many humans. You'll definitely be seen.”

He fought and squirmed, hoping to dislodge his friend. “Yeah, and if I don't go, he'll die!”

“What are you going to do, hm? You're not trained to help hurt humans. And do you even know what he looks like? How are you going to help him when you don't even know what he looks like?” Brendon asked. He fought harder to drag his friend away.

“Yeah, I know what he looks like. He'll be the human that's currently dying!” Patrick shouted. He wretched his arms from Brendon, nail marks being left on his arms.

He took off, taking advantage of Brendon's surprise and heading towards the pier. It was nearly dark now, perfectly timed for the festival to take place. He hoped the dim light would hide him better, but at the moment he really didn't care.

When he surfaced he noticed that the pier was crammed full of people. Some of them had sparklers which, on any other night, Patrick would have found beautiful and fascinating. Now they were just distractions from his main goal.

Flashes of light occurred up in the sky. He realized they were fireworks that the humans had decided to put off. He was almost thankful for the brightly colored flames. They made it easier to see a wider area in the dim light.

He swam around under the pier for a minute, not really knowing what he was looking for. Another letter? A body? He wasn't seeing either one of them.

Then suddenly, a small distance away from Patrick's position under the pier something fell into the water. The splash sounded thunderous to Patrick's ears, over powering the sound of the fireworks.

Whatever it was that had fallen into the water was sinking fast. It was a large, dark shape, almost human-like.

Patrick shot after whatever it was. Maybe it would give him a hint as to where Pete was?

The closer Patrick got the more he realized it wasn't a shape that was human-like. It actually was a human. He had dark, spiky hair and tattoos all over his arms. His eyes were closed and his body was completely relaxed. Patrick had never seen a human sleep before, but he imagined it looked a lot like that.

He continued to swim down as the body sank. He checked the human's ankles and spotted what was dragging him down. It looked like a weight of some kind, similar to the anchors that boat's used but smaller.

Shit, Patrick thought. He looked at the human's face and noticed that his mouth was open. It was clear that he wasn't holding his breath and was probably drowning.

He'd only ever seen one person drown before and it had been an accident. The man had been too taken with Patrick's song to realize he'd been drowning. That had been years ago, around the same time Patrick had received his scar.

This was not an accident though.

He dug his hands into the rope tying the human to the makeshift anchor. Whoever had tied these knots weren't experts, but they had clearly been determined. If it wasn't for the years of untying fishermen's knots then Patrick might not have been able to undo the tangle of knots that were around his ankles.

Once the human was free he bobbed, almost as if he might float to the surface. Yet he didn't. Patrick released the weight and swam over to the human. He slid his arms underneath the human's armpits and booked it to the surface.

He'd expected the human to gasp once his face felt the air, but he didn't. Instead he stayed slumped over, leaning his passed out head back against Patrick's shoulder. His black hair was plastered to his head and Patrick's cheek.

“C'mon, breathe,” Patrick urged. He swam for the shore, struggling to make sure the human's head never went below the surface.

The beach where Patrick landed them was empty, all of the human's apparently having chosen to go to the pier instead. The fireworks sounded overhead, making it impossible to tell if the human even still had a heartbeat.

He pulled him as far up as he could, nearly making Patrick feel as though he were choking. He had to be sure high tide wouldn't get the human and that he had a better shot at being found.

He'd seen the lifeguards training on a private beach nearby one day. He sort of knew how this whole “CPR” thing was supposed to go, but not well enough to actually save the human.

He tried to push himself up onto his tail, hoping to get a better position over the human. His tail flopped uselessly, clearly desiring to be back in the ocean and not on the scratchy, dry sand.

Eventually he managed to get up and clasp his hands over the human's chest. He pressed down hard a couple of times, knowing that he wasn't doing it right. Hope was the only thing on his mind as he prayed that he wasn't somehow hurting the human by doing this to him.

He was trying to keep his panic at bay, but the longer the human stayed still the more he panicked. Had he been too late pulling the human out of the water? He had thought for sure that he had been quick enough at freeing him and bringing him to the surface but perhaps he had been wrong.

He hummed against his will. He knew it was a bad idea to flat out sing, yet he wasn't able to stop all of the noise completely. His voice had been his security blanket for as long as he could remember and it continued to be.

He pumped onto the human's chest a few more times before he flopped into the sand next to him. His body wasn't used to being all the way out of the water for so long, leaving him lightheaded and increasingly weak. How long had he been out of the water for? How much longer could he stay out? Merfolk who trained could be fully out of the water for around ten full minutes. But Patrick had never trained for such a thing. His colony had sworn off going to land this way before he had been born, yet the younger generation like Brendon's sometimes still attempted.

The world felt light and twirly, for lack of a better word. He continued to hum, choosing to close his eyes against the spins and lay next to the human. How ironic that he had drowned in the water and now Patrick was drowning in air.

A coughing noise next to Patrick startled him. His hum tapered off as he opened his eyes.

The human next to him was coughing harshly. He rolled to the side Patrick wasn't on and threw up. He wheezed and flopped back into the sand, rolling away from the sick and towards Patrick.

Dark brown eyes met blue ones. The human stared at Patrick. His eyes were wide, and he was clearly confused. His eyes searched over Patrick's face, taking in the redness and panic in his savior's face.

Patrick had never met someone that he would describe as so beautiful that it made him want to sing until that moment. Even with vomit on his lips and the whole drowned rat look he had going on, Patrick found him beautiful. His tan skin was glistening in the moonlight and the firework glow, despite the gray tinge his face had. His tattoos were from things Patrick had never seen before and looked like nothing but black lines to Patrick's drowning brain.

_So hum hallelujah, just off the key of reason I thought I loved you, it was just how you looked in the light..._ Patrick sang as he looked at the man.

They were Pete's lyrics and while they were always meant to be for Pete, Patrick figured it would be fine to sing them as his last song to such a beautiful human. It was only fair, seeing as how he'd never get to know Pete now.

The human's eyes grew wide once they heard Patrick's voice. He shifted in the sand, as if he were fighting against an invisible weight to get to Patrick. Patrick had no clue why, he hadn't planned on any exact command when he had started singing. In fact, he'd just been singing his own swan song.

“Pete!” a voice yelled.

Again the human's eyes went wide, but now so did Patrick's. His was due to a combination of panic at the thought of another human seeing him and also the name that had been yelled.

Was the guy laying across from Patrick really the Pete who write all those lyrics? All those diary entries? Patrick had imagined what the man behind the words had looked like before but his imagination had fallen way short of the truth.

“Pete?” he breathed out.

The man barely nodded. It was enough for Patrick.

His eyes slid closed, a tiny smile coming to his lips. So he'd finally met the mystery man. Not just met him, but _saved_ him. Saved him and sang part of his lyrics to him. That was enough for Patrick.

“Patrick!” Brendon's voice called out, somewhere from the water, but Patrick didn't have the energy to answer his friend.

Suddenly, Patrick felt something grabbing at his tail and yanking him roughly back into the water.

The human-Pete, Patrick's mind supplied, the real _Pete_ \- made a strangled noise and flopped a hand towards Patrick's. Their fingers grazed before Patrick disappeared beneath the surface, dragged away by at least two people.

The water surrounding him was enough to shock Patrick's system. He gasped, enjoying the way the water felt against his gills and the way it helped to clear his head.

“Keep a hold of him, Brendon,” Travie's voice said. “We need to get him out of here.”

The arms on Patrick's right side tightened, indicating Brendon really was listening for once.

He turned his head weakly towards Brendon and smiled. “I did it. I saved him. I saved Pete.”

Gabe snorted. “Good job, kid. Now who's going to save you?”

That was the last thing Patrick heard before he blacked out.


	3. Walk On Water Or Drown

“He was beautiful, Brendon,” Patrick said, three days later. They were sitting on some rocks overhanging a drop off to a trench under the water. Even to their eyes it was too dark to consider living in, yet they knew some merfolk chose to do so.

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he said, rolling his eyes. Really, Brendon was happy Patrick had finally met the human he was so fascinated with, but mainly he was scared. The sight of his friend being hauled off of the beach by Gabe and Travie had been enough to cement the seriousness of the situation. It had been fine when it was cute little letters in bottles that gave Patrick cute but depressing lyrics to sing his little siren heart out to, but Patrick could have died, whether from drowning or the humans in the area wasn't important.

“Like, who knew humans could be that... pretty? Handsome?” Patrick asked, ticking the descriptions off of his fingers.

Brendon rolled his eyes, finally having enough. “I get it, Patrick, you wanna fuck him.”

Patrick sputtered for a response, but Brendon didn't give him a chance to reply.

“Patrick, you know I love you. You're like the older brother that I never got to have,” Brendon paused, making sure Patrick was listening to the most important part. “But you need to listen. You've got to forget about him, okay? Release the bottles, throw them all away. Go back to making your own songs, they were great! Just... anything to get this human out of your head. You might be a siren but he's the one who's doing the enchanting.”

Patrick shook his head, refusing to believe any of what he was hearing. What exactly was wrong with his crush on Pete? Even if he hadn't had a crush on him he still would have had a high respect and appreciation for his lyrics.

“I can't believe you,” Patrick said, allowing all the hurt he was feeling to sink into each and every word. 

His friend drifted closer to him, intending to place his hands on Patrick's shoulders or maybe even give him a hug, but he moved away. Hurt flashed on Brendon's face but Patrick tried to ignore it.

“I finally found someone who makes me happy and you can't just be happy for me?” he asked him.

“Dammit, Patrick! Of course I want you to be happy but it won't work out. You're a merman and he's a human. You saw what happened when you two were in each others elements for just a few minutes.” He pointed towards the direction of shore, even though it was way too far away to see. “How can you two make that work?”

Patrick swished his fin angrily. He could feel tears growing in his eyes, and he tried to will them away. The last thing this argument needed was for one of them to start crying.

Since sadness wasn't an option he went with anger. “Go fuck yourself,” he spat out. He spun around and headed down into the trench.

He knew Brendon wouldn't follow him now. He hated the trench and knew better than anyone than to try and get Patrick to try and talk when he clearly didn't want to. Other days and other fights they would settle it with a race and a stupid challenge, like who could annoy Travie the most, but not that day and not that fight.

He sank low into the trench, slowly watching as the sun faded away. The water around him got colder which just seemed to fit his mood perfectly.

Eventually he reached the bottom and sat down on the hard rocks that littered the bottom. The crack of sunlight seemed almost like another world, one that Patrick was content to leave behind for now. It wasn't offering him anything anymore.

A glow suddenly appeared behind him. He sprang off of the rock, ready to race back up if he had to.

“Oops, sorry,” a soft voice said from behind him. When Patrick turned around he saw another merman swimming there, an underwater flashlight that must have fallen off of some humans boat in his hands. He had black hair that was probably in need of a cut and a black tail that hardly moved. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

Patrick squinted against the light to get a better look at the merman. As Patrick had thought before, it wasn't uncommon for merfolk to live in the trenches, but it just seemed odd to actually meet one who did.

“You're Gerard, aren't you?” he asked.

The black haired merman froze before nodding his head . “And you're the siren, Patrick, aren't you?”

Now it was Patrick's turn to nod. It wasn't really uncommon for merfolks to know about the 'rare' siren. 

“I've heard about you from Gabe and Travie,” Patrick said. “You used to do what I do now, didn't you?” He'd heard stories about Gerard from some people older in his colony, about how he used to do the same thing Patrick did now. Then, he suddenly disappeared. Once he came back he moved all of his things to the trench and no one ever really spoke to him or about him again.

Gerard shrugged but began to back away, as if he were making his escape into the cave behind him. “Something like that.”

Patrick looked down at his hands. “How do you do it? How did you get that close to humans everyday and not fall in love? With a human, with their way of life?” he asked quietly.

He hadn't really expected an answer to come from the darker shaded merman. He'd expected him to turn and leave the crazy, young merman sitting there in the dark.

“You don't. You really don't.”

Patrick looked up to the older merman. He came over and sank down next to where Patrick had been sitting and patted the rock. Reluctantly, Patrick sank down beside him. Gerard put an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his arm in an encouraging way.

“Then what do you do?” Patrick asked hopelessly. He didn't think that he could keep going back to the surface and enchanting humans day after day, yet not be able to see and talk to the one human that he wanted to. Especially now that he had seen Pete and knew maybe what was really going on in his life. He'd tried to kill himself for crying out loud! 

“Well, I don't recommend moving to the trenches. They're rather cold,” Gerard said.

Patrick let out a breathy laugh. It was light, the kind of laugh someone let's out right before they cry. Despite not really knowing him, Patrick leaned into Gerard's side and rested his head on his shoulder.

Gerard shifted uncomfortably. He seemed to have something that he wanted to say, yet he didn't really seem to know how to say it. Or maybe if he should say it.

“There is something that you can do,” Gerard said. His voice was careful and unsure, which set Patrick's alarms off.

“What?” Patrick asked. His voice was just as hesitant as Gerard's.

“You could turn into a human.”

His mind all but whirled to a stop. If this was some joke the older siren thought was funny, Patrick just might have to end him.

“That's impossible,” Patrick said with a roll of his eyes.

“No, it's not,” Gerard said sincerely. The honest look in the dark haired merman's eyes was so pained that it nearly broke his heart. This is part of what made Patrick believe what he was saying.

“How do you do it?” he asked. He had to know for sure whether or not it truly was possible to do. There were legends that everyone in his colony, probably legends that all merfolk knew, would hand down to the younger generations, stories about merfolk falling for humans and getting a shot at their life. Yet they were cautionary tales, warnings to children who misbehaved or merfolk who insisted on interacting with humans.

Regret was heavy in his eyes. “Are you sure there's no one else? No one else in the entire ocean that you would rather be with than some human?” he asked. It seemed as if he were trying to talk him out of it, even though he seemed to know that he wouldn't be able to.

He shook his head. Which was apparently enough of a confirmation for Gerard.

“Wait right here,” he said. The flashlight flicked back on, and he swam towards the cave he had exited from earlier. Silence reigned as he waited for him to come back, wondering what the heck he could have gone to find.

A minute or so later Gerard swam out, holding a bottle in his hands. It looked similar to all the bottles Pete had thrown into the ocean, yet this one was empty. 

Gerard stared at the bottle in his hands sadly. There was a nostalgic look in his eyes that Patrick couldn't really seem to place. He signed and handed it over to Patrick.

“If you uncork the top and sing into it... you'll get your wish,” he said. He floated down next to Patrick again and patted his back. “Now, it does come with a price!” he exclaimed, placing a hand over Patrick's that had automatically gone to rip it open.

He raised his eyebrows at his words. He knew that a deal like this had to come with some sort of catch. He told Gerard as such, who only shrugged.

“The bottle chooses what it thinks is the most important talent or valuable thing about the person who uses the wish. For a siren, that would be your voice,” he said.

Disbelief covered Patrick's face. This cursed bottle wanted his voice!? What would he be without his voice?

“Secondly, you must make a human fall in love with you in order to stay a human.”

A hand rested on Patrick's throat while his other hand rested on the bottle. “How do I make him fall in love with me if I can't even talk to him?”

A devastated look came over his face as he forced a weak smile. “That one I really don't have an answer for.” He shook his head and ran a hand down his face. “Besides, what were you going to do? Enchant him and make him stay with you?”

Gerard floated away a small distance and put his back to Patrick. He must have been giving him time to decide what he wanted to do. 

Patrick shook his head. No, he hadn't really planned to do something like that. He'd just hoped that the first time they actually met he'd be able to show Pete that someone would want to sing his songs. That _Patrick_ viewed them as something wonderful and worthy of everyone hearing.

But he supposed that he wouldn't have been able to sing them for him anyways, what with his siren powers. So maybe it really didn't matter if he could talk to him. If he had his voice he would be way too tempted to sing, which would enchant the human against his will. And after all, he really just wanted to be able to see if he was okay at least.

Without an ounce of hesitation, he ripped the cork from the bottle, lifted it to his lips, and began to sing. At first it wasn't really anything, just a sort of hum that he imagined would fit one of Pete's songs. Then it changed, slowly finishing a part of the song he had been caught singing a few days earlier.

“Stop!” Gerard said. He sprang towards Patrick, attempting to snatch the bottle fro him. A whirlpool popped up around Patrick though, forcing him back.

A strange glow surrounded the younger merman. It grew so bright he was forced to close his eyes. Through closed lids he could still see the glow, like sunlight coming in through the water.

Pain lanced through his fin, as if a giant fisherman's hook had latched onto it and ripped him apart. He attempted to gasp, yet all that came in was sea water that failed to make him feel any better.

His throat felt as if something had wrapped around it and squeezed, squeezed until he was sure he would die. He could hear Gerard yelling with someone else over the swirling water rushing in his ears, but he couldn't make it out.

Just as quickly as everything had started, it stopped. He opened his eyes but couldn't see anything. The salt in the water burned his eyes and blurred everything, even though it had never been an issue before.

He opened his mouth to ask what had happened but all that came out was a choke. It was like he was back on land again, unable to breath or move properly. That's when he realized he was drowning in water. Like a human.

“Shit, shit! Ger him to the surface now!” Gerard yelled to someone. For the second time in a week, Patrick felt himself being hauled through the water.

He weakly latched onto whoever it was holding him and realized he knew the voice that was whispering under his breath.

“Please, let me make it. Please, please, please.”

_Brendon,_ Patrick thought. He sounded even more worried than he had the night he'd had to be hauled back into the water.

Patrick tried to help them get to the surface faster, but found he couldn't. His tail no longer moved in unison as it was supposed to do. Instead, it was like he'd gained another one, yet neither one of them seemed to want to listen to him.

The surface had never seemed further away than it had in that moment. Do they always stay this deep in the water? Darkness began to cover the light of the surface, but he wasn't sure if that was from the lack of air or the salt in his eyes.

Just when Patrick was convinced he would die ironically in the water, they breached the surface. Brendon wrapped one of Patrick's arms around his shoulder and slapped at his face. “Breathe! C'mon Trick, breathe for me. Use those new human lungs for me,” Brendon said. He was clearly panicking, Patrick could even feel him shaking as they bobbed up and down in the water.

“Please, say something,” Brendon begged.

He opened his eyes and his mouth but no words came out. In fact, nothing but spit and sea water fell from his lips.

H knew the price he'd had to pay had been his voice yet it still surprised him. There had never been a day of his life that he didn't have his voice on his side.

“Oh shit, oh, shit, oh shit,” Brendon muttered. “Let's get you to land, okay buddy? You're going to be fine, everything's going to be fine.” The panic must have been on Patrick's face, which made Brendon panic even more. He began towards shore, constantly making sure Patrick was above water. “You still good?”

His mouth automatically fell open but when nothing came out again he nodded. It was slow going, as Brendon stopped to check on him every few feet, but eventually they made it to shore.

Patrick recognized it immediately. It was a private beach that was usually only used by older couples who owned the beach houses beyond or by teenagers who had more than likely broken in. The water surrounding the beach wasn't the best, which forced most merfolk to stay away, but it was private enough for Brendon to help him land on.

It seemed so odd to Patrick that he had spent his entire life in the water, yet now he was incapable of even swimming in it. Hell, just treading water while holding onto Brendon had been difficult.

Brendon helped him up onto a rock that jutted out a little ways from shore. It was far enough out that there was no need to worry about him drowning on air, but out of the water enough that Patrick wouldn't drown in the water now.

“Whoa!” Brendon yelled, and Patrick had to agree.

Now that he was out of the water he could see his newly formed legs. They were pale, just like the rest of him, and short like his tail had been. A light sprinkle of blond hair covered them, similar to the hair on his head.

Towards the bottom of his legs was a rather large and pink, nasty scar, just like the one his tail had had. He frowned when he saw it. Somehow it looked worse when placed on his human legs.

“You've, uh, got a new piece of equipment there, Trick,” Brendon said. He gave a slight wave towards his middle, pointing out another difference between humans and merfolk aside from their legs.

Patrick's eyes widened as he stared at his lap. A shaky hand prodded a this new body part. He only stopped once Brendon laid a hand over his, halting his actions. 

“Human's don't really do that, Trick,” he said. “At least not when they're not going to mate with someone.” It was clear from his face he'd came up on too many humans having sex in the water.

He flushed and moved his hands towards something less personal: his feet. It took a huge amount of effort to move only one leg at a time, and even when he did it was shaky and clearly unstable.

He curled his toes, grabbing at loose rocks and dropping them in the water. His feet burned as they touched anything other than water, yet he continued on, testing the feeling in his new legs.

“Hey, Trick?” Brendon asked. He waited until he had Patrick's attention and then awkwardly patted his legs once he had it. “I'll be right back, okay? I swear I will, just don't move from this spot.”

Patrick didn't point out that he didn't think he could really move even if he wanted to, mainly because he didn't know how to communicate that. His legs were already shaky at best when sitting down. Trying to stand would most likely end with him bashing his head onto a rock.

It wasn't long before Brendon returned, holding the previously mentioned stolen swim trunks and a discarded human's t-shirt. Brendon pulled him into the water and struggled to get him into the trunks, which was made even more difficult by the fact that Patrick still lacked totally control of his legs.

“Okay, Trick what happened?” Brendon asked after he helped him back up onto the rock. He gazed over Patrick's legs and feet, still stunned by what had happened.

Patrick opened his mouth but not even a squeak came out. He gave a sad smile to Brendon, wrapped a hand around his throat and shrugged.

Brendon practically launched himself up onto the rock next to Patrick. “What happened to your voice? Can't you talk?”

A sheepish look stayed on his face. He pointed to his legs and then to his throat. He repeated this a few more times until Brendon seemed to understand.

“You somehow traded your voice for legs?” he asked. Patrick nodded, happy he understood. “Well, how fucking long will it last? How did it happen?”

These weren't really questions that Patrick knew how to answer. Gerard said that he needed a human to love him to stay human, but he hadn't said how long it would last otherwise. And how could he possible explain how this had happened?

The panic started to hit him. If he couldn't explain anything to Brendon, who he'd known his whole life, then how was he going to communicate to Pete? Or any other humans for that matter?

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” Brendon said. He placed his hands on the side of Patrick's face, helping to calm his breathing down. He was scared too, but freaking Patrick out wouldn't help the situation any. “I'll just ask Gabe and Travie how we can turn you back.”

Shaking his head, Patrick slid back, away from Brendon and the water.

'No,' he mouthed, 'I wanted this.'

Brendon furrowed his brow. “You wanted this? To be human?” It seemed ridiculous to him, but then again, so did this whole situation.

He nodded. Even if Brendon didn't understand why, he needed to be human. At least long enough to make sure Pete was alright.

“Shit. What are we going to do?” Brendon asked. His question was more towards himself than Patrick, which was good because he couldn't answer him, even if he did have an answer. His heart was warmed by the “we” he had placed such an emphasis on. At least Patrick knew he wasn't in it alone. “Is this,” he gestured to his legs, “permanent?”

The newly turned human shook his head. Brendon closed his eyes and slumped his head against the rock, a small 'thud' noise coming out. “Well, do you know how to make it permanent? Or how to turn back? You can't be walking on land and then suddenly sprout fins and gills, Trick!”

Patrick pointed to his legs. Then he blew a kiss towards Brendon.

Squinting his eyes, Brendon looked at his legs and then back at Patrick. Before he could mime it again, Brendon had launched himself out of the water and latched his lips onto Patrick's. He wrapped his arms around Patrick and nearly pulled him into the water.

Gently, Patrick pushed him off, shaking his head and silently laughing. His body shook with his silent laughter, which only increased when he glanced at Brendon's embarrassed face. 

“What! You said a kiss would permanently turn you! Although I don't really know if you meant into a human or a merman again so there's that,” Brendon said. He crossed his arms and slid low into the water until only his nose up was visible. 

Patrick nodded, agreeing that he had said that. He made a heart with his hands and then mimed a kiss, doing the heart shape a few more times to get the point across.

“Great,” Brendon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “true love. Because that shit's easy to find around here.” 

He reached down and patted his friends head, thankful he had a friend like him who would be willing to kiss him to give him what he wanted. Another thing to be thankful for was the fact that Brendon didn't seem to be too upset that Patrick had turned down his kiss.

Sadness filled Brendon's eyes as he looked up at Patrick. “You can't even come home with me like this to ask them. You can't come home.”

A frown spread across Patrick's face. That had never occurred to him. Now that he was human he wouldn't be able to get home. He wouldn't _have_ a home. And he had no clue what he should do as a human, especially since he didn't even have his voice to get a human to do what he wanted them to do for him.

Brendon slid up from the water onto a rock with hardly any sound. “Fine, we're going to take things one problem at a time. Let's try walking.”

Patrick scrunched up his face in determination and a tiny bit of apprehension. Already he knew this was going to be a painful and terrible experience. Yet this is what he needed to do to get around in the human world. He couldn't very well just sit on a rock next to the water all day.

He used his arms to push himself up and dragged his legs underneath him, planting his feet against the rocks. He bit his lip, hard, and pushed, managing to stumble up to his feet.

His feet burned against the rock, but he was determined to at least take a step forward. His leg shook as he lifted it, with his arms stretched out to his sides for balance. He felt a tiny bit of pride and accomplishment when his foot hit the ground, officially taking his first step. He looked down at Brendon and practically beamed, right before he toppled over onto the rocks.

Patrick hissed in pain. Scrapes were covering his hands and a tiny bit of blood bubbled to the top of his skin. Despite it being near sundown sweat poured from Patrick's face, his concentration taking its toll.

He balled up a fist and punched the rock. Practically new born humans could walk, why couldn't he? If his legs hadn't been shaking so much or if the pain would just go away, he might be able to walk.

“Trick, don't do that,” Brendon said, as if he were speaking to a guppy. Just because Patrick couldn't speak, didn't mean he needed to be babied. “You did great for your first time.”

But not good enough. If he couldn't make it two steps, how did he think he would survive living with the humans? How would he find Pete?

“C'mon Trick. Stand up and try at least one more time,” Brendon encouraged. He jumped back into the water and then hauled himself back up onto the rocks, giving himself a much needed breather. His hand reached up, offering his support to his friend. He smile when Patrick took it and began crawling to his wobbly knees.

“That's it, Trick, you got it,” he said. He helped him get his feet under him until he could stand up. it was hunched over and awkward, but at little less shaky than it had been before. It seemed he was getting his land legs under him.

Patrick shuffled his feet against the rocks, a poor imitation of human walking. His face was scrunched in pain, but he didn't stop until he had made it all the way out of Brendon's reach. When he was too far away to touch the merman anymore he stood up straight, taking in the world around him.

'Wow,' he mouthed.

Brendon hovered, his hands ready to stretch and grab a hold of Patrick if he needed it. The rocks next to them blocked whatever it was Patrick was looking at.

“What is it?” Brendon asked. He worried what it was his friend might be seeing.

Patrick stuck a finger out towards the horizon. “Sunset,” he mouthed. Or at least Brendon was fairly sure that was what he had meant.

He kept standing there until his legs grew wobbly and the sun officially set. He collapsed back onto the rocks and wrapped his arms around him. The temperature had fallen with the sun going down, and he was quickly growing cold. As a merman the temperature never really bothered him, but he supposed that was just another difference between humans and merfolk that he would have to get used to.

“We need to figure out where you can go for the night,” Brendon said, and Patrick agreed. Going home was clearly out, but so was staying on the private beach. You could never guess when a bunch of teenagers might show up. 

But leaving the beach meant leaving Brendon, a thought that nearly killed him. They'd never really been away from each other, especially when one of them was going through something a serious as this. How would he make it without him?

He tried to focus on where he might be able to stay. The pier instantly popped into his mind, the image of other homeless humans living underneath it inspired him. While he might not want to be near humans- any human not named Pete that is, it did seem to be the best option for him at the moment. And he would be lying if he said that the thought of being alone didn't absolutely terrify him.

“Take me to the pier,” he mouthed. Brendon squinted at him either confused about why he wanted to go there or not understanding him. Or maybe even a combination of the two.

“Pete probably won't be there right now, Trick,” Brendon said. He knew his friend wanted to see the human again, but he figured that he should probably learn how to walk before chasing after him.

The newly turned human waved his warnings away. 'I know,' he mouthed, even though he didn't think Brendon could actually see. He just figured that the pier would be one of the safer places for him to hang out as a human. And then when the sun rose again he could actually go and look for Pete.

“Gabe and Travie are going to kill me when I tell them. And you if you ever come back to the ocean.”

Patrick had no doubt about that. But he really couldn't tell Brendon that he didn't really have any intentions of coming back to the ocean. One, because he didn't know how to tell him, and two, because it would break his heart and worry him even more.

Besides, he had a human's love to catch first.


	4. Since When Did My Clock Need To Tick Or Tock

Two days later and Patrick had mastered the art of walking. Kind of. He still tended to stumble if left standing too long and long distances made the scar on his legs (his legs, wow, he was still surprised by that) tense up and ache. He'd even tried running a bit, but those attempts mostly ended with him eating sand.

“What's up, Stump?” a woman asked him. Her bright red hair was easily visible in the sunlight, shining nearly as brightly as her smile. Patrick has instantly taken a liking to her the second they met, even if he wasn't overly fond of the nickname that he had been given.

The night Brendon had left him at the pier he had tried to stay away from the humans, choosing instead to sit a little ways up the beach and out of their campfire light. It was comforting to be close to them, yet he wasn't sure he was ready to be so close to them.

The girl, Hayley he knew her as, had seen him sitting by himself and had walked right up to him and introduced herself without a care in the world. She hadn't even been bothered when she learned he couldn't reply, just shrugged and asked if he knew any sign language. He hadn't been sure what that was, so he had settled for a shake of his head.

“Me either,” she said. “Just a few simple words. Mainly popcorn. Probably wouldn't have helped you even if you did know.”

She'd then offered him a piece of paper and a pen to write with from the bag on her back, but he could only shrug at. Most merfolk could read, but they couldn't write, as they didn't exactly have the right materials to work with underwater. Thankfully she seemed to understand.

“Well, if you're going to be hanging out with us, we're going to need to call you something,” she had said. Without any hesitation she had pulled him from the sand and wrapped a small arm around him to support him over to the fire once it became obvious he wasn't going to be able to walk there by himself.

“Wow, you're a little dude, aren't you?” she'd asked, noticing that he wasn't much taller that her, if he was at all. This had made him kind of self-conscious. Was he too short to be a male human? Did he look weird? For the first time in his life he had truly questioned whether or not he looked “weird”. Body image wasn't a huge thing for merfolk, although there were some jealousies going on about the different colors of people's tails, so he'd never really had to worry about how he looked before.

Apparently his height, his scar, and the fact that he had no way to tell them his name or where he had came from left them all a little stumped, which had inspired the new nickname. Again, not one he was proud of, but it was something.

He shrugged at Hayley now, wondering where the girl had been all day. While she wasn't one of the many homeless who he'd met the past few days, she did hang out with them and frequently talk to them. Apparently some of her friends were runaways and the beach was the perfect escape.

“I got something for you,” she said in a sing-song voice. Poseidon, how Patrick missed singing. “I noticed you tend to be a little tender footed on anything other than wet sand, so I brought you these.”

She pulled a pair of blue flip flips from behind her back, smiling as she handed them to him. He'd seen the shoes on many humans before, but he'd never thought that the day would come where he would be able to wear them.

“I hope they're the right size. If not I can go back and get another pair,” she said.

Patrick stuck his tongue between his lips, fully concentrating on slipping the shoes on. Which two toes was it the annoying piece of plastic was supposed to slide through? Why did it have to at all?

Hayley reached over and slid the shoes correctly onto his feet. Then she reached over and brushed his dirty blond hair from his sweaty forehead. “Stump, you really shouldn't sit out in the sun for this long. You're already getting a sunburn.”

Patrick looked down at his body, wondering what a sunburn was. Was that what it was called when his skin went pink like it was doing now? He'd seen it so many times on pale humans that he'd just thought that it was something normal.

“C'mon, let's get you in the shade. And a drink of water.”

She managed to wrestle him to his feet in his new shoes and then practically drag him down the beach to sit under the pier. A bottle of water (still a strange thought to Patrick) was pulled from her bag and offered to him.

He gulped it down greedily. Somehow he kept forgetting that water was a thing he needed to drink now. Like, he could remember food, but water had always just been a thing surrounding him. It never occurred to him how much humans depended on water to live, too.

“You did eat today, right?” Hayley asked. Her eyes were narrowed in concern as she rummaged through her purse. “I'm sure I have something in here.”

Ever since he became human, Brendon had been visiting at night after all the humans were asleep, or at least not as focused on what Patrick was doing, and had given him some fish he had caught to eat. Unfortunately, that was how Patrick learned he no longer liked to eat fish raw. Thankfully, some of the homeless humans had offered to cook and trade the fish Patrick had “caught” so he wouldn't go hungry.

Hayley smiled at him and brushed his hair back again. Her eyes drifted to some place behind him. “Stump, do you know anyone in the area?” she asked.

Patrick couldn't imagine why she would be asking a question like that, nor did he know how to answer it. He knew Brendon and his colony, and while they were certainly in the area, he didn't think that was who she had been referring to.

Then there was the human, Pete, who he had failed to see since turning human. He thought about whether he could really claim to know him, when they'd met for less than a second and all he had to go off of was lyrics and diary entries, and if Hayley knew him. She hung around the beach often enough that she had probably met him before.

Too bad he didn't know how to ask any of that.

He shook his head no, going with the easier answer. She tightened her lips together and gave him a serious look. “So you don't know anyone from around here. Not a soul?” At another head shake from Patrick she continued. “I'll tell the guys that he can beat it then.” She stood up, determination on her face as she marched towards the stairs leading to the pier.

Confusion covered Patrick's face. Who was she talking about? He stood up and ran behind her, stumbling like a baby human on the uneven sand.

“He says he doesn't know you. Which just confirms what I already told you,” Hayley yelled up to someone up at the top of the stairs. “You can stop bothering everyone now.”

Patrick looked up the stairs and almost forgot how to breath. Standing at the top of the stairs was the man he had been looking for this entire time. Somehow he looked even better than he had the first time Patrick had ever seen him, even if he was blurry from the distance.

His tanned skin was no longer sickly gray from nearly drowning but healthy and glowing in the sunlight. His hair was styled, spiked up a bit, and he was wearing the tightest pair of black pants Patrick had ever seen on a human. Girls included.

Pete hadn't seemed to notice Patrick yet. “C'mon Hayley, I just wanna see him to see if it's the same guy.”

She crossed her arms. “You can take your Little Mermaid story somewhere else, buddy. He can barely walk, much less haul your ass out of the ocean. And he definitely can't sing. He doesn't even talk.”

Pete's eyes widened as he finally saw Patrick standing there. He took a step forward, as if he might come down the stairs, but halted, still standing at the top. His hand grabbed a hold of the railing and it seemed as if his legs were shaking.

Hayley turned around, surprised to see Patrick standing there. Her facial expression made it clear that she hadn't expected him to move that fast, given that he never had before. 

“Stump,” she said, walking towards him. Her arms reached out for him, but he stumbled back. This time it wasn't from the new legs but rather her words.

He knew the vibrant haired girl hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, but she had. She basically reminded him that he was something different, something viewed as odd to humans, even now that he _was_ human.

She stopped walking towards him, at least figuring out that much. “Stump, if he hurt you we can protect you,” she said.

The look of absolute confusion must have been strong on his face. “Those scars on your legs? The fact that you don't talk, but sometimes I see you mouthing words... If he did something to you, we'll stop it.”

Admiration for her bravery and loyalty flooded Patrick. He'd barely known this girl for a week and she was already willing to fight a grown man for him. Too bad he didn't need her to.

He shook his head, waving his hands in front of him as well. Pete had never done anything wrong to him, the last thing he wanted was for Pete to think he had done something.

Pete, meanwhile, had managed to make his way down the stairs without falling. He peeked around Hayley, staring at Patrick as if he was something special. Patrick could feel his already pink cheeks going red.

“It's you,” Pete whispered. Both Hayley and Patrick jumped, startled by him speaking.

And oh wow, Patrick thought the most beautiful sound the world had to offer was thunder under the water, but those two words had just proved him wrong, totally wrong. Then more than ever did Patrick wish he could talk so he could hear Pete say his name.

All Patrick could do was stare. He figured they were all pretty lucky he hadn't had a heart attack by this point anyways. Here he was standing, standing on two legs, in front of the one human he had most wanted to meet.

“You're the one who pulled me out of the water, aren't you?” Pete asked. There was so much more to that question, like, _you saved my life? You saw me try to kill myself? How did you find me?_ And yet Patrick couldn't properly answer them, despite hearing them loud and clear.

He glanced at Hayley, wondering what she would think of him now. Would she think he had been pretending to be unable to walk properly or speak? The last thing he wanted was to lose her as a friend or her respect.

He nodded and shrugged. Downplaying his whole part in the rescue seemed to be the way to go.

“I knew it! I knew it was you the second I saw you. There's no mistaking those eyes,” Pete said excitedly. He threw his arms into the air and smiled widely at Patrick.

“Where did you go that night, man?” he asked. His excitement was slightly dampened by the hurt tone in his voice. It was obvious he was wondering why Patrick would have left him after seeing what state he had been in.

No words came from Patrick's opened mouth as he gestured in an 'I don't know' fashion. He never intended to leave Pete, his friends had been the ones to pull him back. He would have gladly drowned on land to have laid there with Pete for a few more moments.

Thankfully Hayley had an answer. “He's homeless. Most homeless people don't like to get involved with the police.”

Pete looked devastated. “You're homeless?” he asked. Pete never would have thought that the kind and gorgeous (and if his oxygen deprived brain was correct- _talented_ ) young man would be homeless. How could someone have not already snatched him up as their husband or at least boyfriend?

 _'Easy there, Wentz,'_ he thought. _'You've only just met him.'_ Which was true, but already he felt more connected to him then any of the girls he had ever dated. Including his most recent mistakes.

Patrick was unsure how to answer that. Technically he had a nice cave waiting for him to come back to, but it was underwater and he couldn't go there now. There was also the fact that he had the pier. Was he technically homeless if he and at least seven other people called it home?

Instead, he settled for a wave towards the pier, gesturing down underneath it with a small smile. Really, it hadn't been that bad living under there so far, and he couldn't imagine why Pete was reacting so badly to it. The pier was his first human home.

“You live under the pier?” Pete asked. Something was stuck right in the back of Pete's mind, as if it should be obvious why this guy would live under the pier, yet looking at him it wasn't readily noticeable.

He watched as 'Stump' pointed somewhere under the pier, more correctly indicating where he lived. Again, horror filled him as he thought of the shorter man living under there. It simply wasn't right that he had no place to call home, other than a sandy towel. There had to be something Pete could do about that.

Patrick watched as Pete messed around on his cell phone, yet another thing he had always seen far away but never up close, and his face took on one of a man on a mission. Wonder filled him as he waited a second, then heard a 'ding' come from the phone. Whatever had happened was enough to make Pete happy, as he looked up towards Patrick with a huge grin.

“How would you like to come and stay with me, er, Stump?” he asked, the first part directed at Patrick and the second part at Hayley, hoping he'd got the name right.

Dumbfounded was the best word to describe how Patrick was feeling. Never did he think finding Pete would be this easy, and he definitely never thought he'd get to live with him. It was like those stories told to mer-children, expect this one was hopefully going to have a happy ending. 

Briefly, his eyes flitted over to Hayley. She obviously didn't want him to go with this “stranger”, but she also knew that her new friend couldn't stay on the beach forever. From the little she had seen, he'd probably die from sunstroke in the next day or two.

He just barely restrained himself from jumping right at Pete and giving him a kiss right there. He was already asking Patrick to move in with him, what would the next step be? That's when he realized that he really didn't know what came next. He'd never watched two humans closely for a long enough time to really know what their courtship rules were. But still, he was sure moving in together had to be kind of high on the list.

“So, what do you say. Er, well, you know what I mean,” Pete said with a wince once he realized what he had said. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked embarrassed by his word choice.

Not that it bothered Patrick any. He simply nodded his head eagerly, hoping that it wasn't eager enough to make him look desperate. The last thing he wanted was to seem like some sort of needy charity case to Pete.

Pete smiled, and it was so bright it rivaled Hayley's hair. “Okay, good. Okay, yeah,” he said, almost vibrating with excitement. He looked between Hayley and Patrick and started tapping on his phone again. “So I have a few things that I need to take care of, but I'll be back in a couple of hours. That should give you plenty of time to say goodbye to everyone, right?”

A thought of one person in particular that he needed to say good bye to popped into his mind. He could only hope that he would be able to find him before Pete came back. He had no clue what he would do if he couldn't find Brendon before it was time to leave.

He nodded, happy that he'd have a chance to look for his friend. He smiled back at Pete, hoping his was at least as half as bright as Pete's and portrayed even a fraction of what he was feeling.

“Meet back here in a couple of hours?” Pete asked. When he nodded Pete held out his hand for a hand shake, completely sealing the deal.

As Pete turned to walk away, headed back up the stairs where he had come from, Hayley stepped in front of Patrick. She completely blocked his view of Pete, snapping him out of his smile-induced trance.

“I'm gonna go talk to him, okay? I'll see ya later,” she said. Then she turned and ran towards the stairs, basically sprinting up after him.

He watched until they were out of sight, which wasn't that far with his eyesight, and then sprinted towards the private beach. The new shoes made it slightly difficult to walk, but took away most of the burning sensation that happened when ever he stood. It was still there, but it was toned down to a more bearable level.

The private beach was easier to reach by water than it was by land, but Patrick had seen a few teens sneaking in through a hole in the fence next to some rocks and the water. The metal was rusty and bent, and the hole was just wide enough for him to crawl through.

He picked up a few rocks and tossed them as far into the water as he could. It wasn't an ideal way of getting merfolk's attention, but if anyone was floating out there they would be more likely to at least check it out. With Patrick gone all merfolk had gone on high alert, stationing a “watcher” at the private beach and as close to the pier as they dared to be. This was supposed to be a cautionary measure, making sure that they always knew where the hunters were, but Patrick knew it was also because his friends were worried about him. He was so close, yet so far and they weren't able to help him if he truly needed it.

A few more rocks were thrown, sticking to the pattern he and Brendon had decided on. A few minutes past by, making him wonder if he should toss a few more or just give up, when Brendon's head barely appeared above the water. If Patrick hadn't been watching for it he might not have even noticed.

His friend raced towards him, barely even pausing as he pulled himself up onto the rock next to Patrick. He held him out at arms length searching over his friend for anything wrong.

“Are you okay? You've never called for us at day time before,” Brendon said. “I wasn't on watch, but they came and got me.”

Patrick waved his hand at Brendon, hoping to sooth his friend's fears. He grabbed Brendon's face, forcing him to look straight at his face. “I met him,” he mouthed. “I met Pete.”

It took a few more times and a few outlandish guesses before Brendon finally got it, but when he did he was ecstatic. “You did! You found him?! That's so great!” he said. He slid off of the rock and back into the water. “Whew! You had me worried sick about you.”

He smiled, having been well aware of how worried his friend had been.

“So, how was your kiss?” Brendon asked. “Is kissing a human just as good as kissing merfolk?”

He scrunched his eyebrows at his friend. He motioned towards himself while shaking his head and miming a kiss.

Now it was Brendon's turn to look confused. “You haven't kissed him yet?” Another shake. “Well, I guess that makes sense as to why you still can't talk.” He looked even more worried now than he had when he'd first appeared.

Patrick placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him. Once Brendon looked up he smiled, mouthing, “What's wrong?”

Brendon leaned his face into Patrick's legs, wrapping his arms around them and almost pulling him in. Patrick's heart did a brief somersault as he thought about going into the water now that he couldn't swim or breath under water, but it passed when he reminded himself of who he was with. There was no way Brendon would let him drown.

His grip on his legs tightened before quickly releasing him, hopping back up onto the rock with Patrick. He pulled his friend into a hug so tight it was clear he didn't want to let go. It scared Patrick. Brendon was never this way, usually a loud and vibrant merman who loved to pick and tease. Not someone who felt as if they needed to cling to their friends as if they would disappear. He thought about trying to ask if everyone back home was okay, but Brendon began talking before he could.

“You need to get your voice back, Patrick,” he said.

Patrick gestured in an 'I know, I know,' way, but Brendon wasn't having it. “There's something I need to tell you. I managed to find Gerard again.” Apparently he had sort of disappeared after Patrick and Brendon had left for the surface, leaving Brendon searching for him when he wasn't watching out for Patrick. He wasn't quite sure why this was a bad thing, but he understood Brendon enough to wait before he tried to ask questions.

“He said that since you're a siren you have a lot less time than most merfolk under this... 'spell'.” He stared up at Patrick, his eyes pleading with him to understand. “You'll die if you don't sing, Patrick. You know how you always say you can't help but sing? It's because you really can't.”

He searched his friend's face, hoping to find even a trace of a joke or a lie. When he didn't find one he nearly slid into the water himself. Sure, he'd always found it odd that he literally always had to sing, but it hadn't seemed like something absolutely necessary to life. 

“How long?” Patrick mouthed. He needed to know how long he had left to make Pete realize he was in love with him, or at least how long he had left to spend with him. Or make a plan to turn himself back into a merman again.

Brendon shook his head and shrugged. “He didn't know. He said that he's only ever seen one other person use the spell before, and that it's been so long since a siren died from not singing that he really couldn't say. And I didn't want to ask Travie or Gabe because that would just make them worry even more, and I didn't want that and-” Brendon cut himself off. He patted Patrick legs as he managed to get a hold of himself and offered what little comfort he could. “Don't worry though. You're going to make him fall in love with you and then you'll be able to sing until your brand new human lungs give out.”

The confidence in his voice made Patrick want to believe him, but worry was still worming it's way into his mind. As if not being able to talk to Pete wasn't bad enough, adding some unknown time limit ticking down on his life just made it that much worse.

They sat there for a moment in the silence until Patrick truly remembered the good news. He knew the fact that he was moving in with Pete would worry him, but he also knew that he would see it as a vast improvement from the pier and a step in the right direction for their relationship.

He tried a combination of mouthing and miming that took far longer than Patrick had thought it would. The only reason Brendon eventually ended up guessing it was probably because he'd known Patrick so long that it made some of his worse mimes semi-coherent. 

“You're moving in?!” he asked, just as excited as Patrick thought he would be. He darted back and forth in the water before stilling and looking at Patrick. “You'll still come back and visit, right?”

A smile split Patrick's face as he bent down to give his friend a hug. Surely, with how many times Pete visited the pier he couldn't live that far away, which would make it easier to visit Brendon and the others. Even if he didn't have his voice to help save them anymore he couldn't stand the thought of leaving them completely alone.

As he pulled out of the hug he jerked his thumb back towards the pier and gave him a little wave. Brendon waved as well, understanding he had to leave, and raced off after making Patrick promise to visit every chance he got. It was lonely walking back to the beach near the pier, which only served to remind him that even if he did get Pete to fall in love with him this would be his life. He'd be unable to return home to his colony ever again and be forced to sneak conversations on private beaches like some kind of criminal or cheater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just want you to know that I love every single comment I get on here. I know that I very rarely ever reply to them, and that makes me feel bad, but just know that I see all of the comments and kudos and love you guys for it! Someone on tumblr asked me why I don't ever reply and most of the time it's just because I never have a clue what to say. So just know that you guys are awesome and strictly marvelous.


	5. You Came For Love, But Let's Stay For The Food

By the time he made his way back, Pete was standing there, glancing at his watch and then around the beach. He shifted nervously, kicking at the sand that surrounded his feet.

Patrick waved and smiled as he came into view. Pete visibly relaxed, releasing a breath it seemed he had been holding for a long time. The smile he gave Patrick in return was just as big, maybe bigger, and seemed to drain all of the nervous energy he had away.

“Hey,” he said, jogging over to Patrick. “I wasn't sure you were going to show.” Patrick cocked his head to the side, his question clear. “I mean, I didn't know if you found it weird. Like, me offering you somewhere to stay is all. Stranger danger and all that.”

The sandy haired man shook his head and waved his hand in the direction of the pier. Pete glanced that way and squinted his eyes, almost as if he could see something that Patrick couldn't. He picked up a bag Patrick hadn't even noticed and slung it over his shoulder.

He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he apparently chose against it. “Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. He gave another smile to Patrick and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It's not really important, I guess.”

Patrick interest was sparked but he let it slide. He was far more worried about going to the first human home he had ever been in, especially seeing as how it was Pete's home.

Pete kept his arm wrapped around Patrick's shoulder the whole way to the car, a fact that had Patrick's cheeks burning in a blush. The entire time Pete chattered away, hardly even pausing to breath. It probably wouldn't have made a difference if Patrick could have spoken to him or not.

“So, I had my friend Andy come over to help clean up the place before you came over. The place was a little, uh, trashed,” he said, almost as if he was uncomfortable. Patrick couldn't imagine why that might be a cause for embarrassment for the human. After all, Patrick had been living under the pier.

“Anyway, this is my van,” he said. He finally let go of Patrick, instead using that arm to wave in front of a rusting, old, white van. It certainly looked out of place compared to the newer looking cars in the lot surrounding them.

Which was also another new thing to Patrick. He'd never really seen a car this close up before. There was one distant road out towards where another colony lived that frequently had cars roaring by, but with Patrick' bad eyesight they'd always been nothing more than blurry colors racing along the cement.

The longer he stood there without giving him a reaction, the more Pete began to fidget. He slowly lowered his arms and rubbed his hands together. “I mean, it's not really mine. I just borrowed it from my friend Joe so you wouldn't have to walk the whole way there. Not that it's super long but still,” he stuttered on for a moment longer, and he was so cute Patrick almost let him keep going.

Instead, he chose to be a good person and let him off of the hook. He walked past Pete and over to the van and ran his hand over the warm metal, and he realized how much it felt like the boats out on the ocean. He smiled and gave two thumbs up to let him know that it was all fine and that Patrick thought he was a sweetheart for not wanting him to walk that far. It was such a small consideration, yet he was unbelievably touched by the gesture. 

Pete returned the smile and opened the van door. “Alright, climb on in,” he said. He held the door open until Patrick had settled down into the passenger's seat, and then shut it gently, making sure not to hit Patrick.

The van was completely cluttered with so many different things Patrick wasn't even sure where he should look. Various fast food bags were in the floor, although all of them were thankfully empty, and crinkled up under his feet. There were also plastic cases containing CDs littering the floor. While Pete threw open the backseat door and threw his bag in, Patrick lifted one of them up at random, admiring the dark colors covering the CD and paper inside it.

Pete looked at Patrick as he investigated the CD. “Oh, hey, yeah,” he said, taking the CD from Patrick's hand and tossing it into the back. “That's our band's CD. Well, would be our band's CD if we could keep a singer for longer than three days. Right now it's just some awkward guitar riffs and drum beats.” He looked at Patrick as if he were searching for something. “You wouldn't happened to know any singers in the area, would you?”

The urge to jump up and shake Pete while yelling, “Me! Me! Me!” was so strong it almost hurt to not be able to do it. His insides ached to sing for Pete and be his singer for him, and briefly he thought about Brendon's warning. He shook his desires off though. How could he explain being a singer when he couldn't even talk? The fact that someone else might sing Pete's lyrics for their band also stressed Patrick out, knowing that even without his siren powers he would sing it better than anyone else ever could. They wouldn't understand the lyrics the way Patrick did, nor would they care to learn like he would.

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. The disappointment on Pete's face was so strong it nearly hurt him. “Yeah, I didn't think so,” he said.

A few more awkward moments involving Pete buckling Patrick's seat belt for him later, and they were on the road, heading towards “home”. “Wouldn't want you flying out of this bucket of bolts, would we Stump?” he'd asked, winking at Patrick and nearly giving him a heart attack.

Pete looked over at him from the corner of his eye. He tried to ignore it, but soon it caused him to fidget, the prolonged staring eventually getting to him. He jerked his head towards Pete, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. It's just... Stump? Really? Is that your name?” Pete asked.

He crossed his arms over his chest. While he wasn't overly fond of the nickname, it was the first name he'd been given by a human. It was the name that all the humans knew him as. Still, it really wasn't his name. He uncrossed his arms and shook his head with a sigh.

“I didn't think so,” Pete said. He stared straight ahead now, intently watching the road even though there were few cars out. It was getting closer to dusk, and Patrick watched the sun setting over Pete's arms, the sun sparking against the water. For once in his life the water wasn't his main focus.

Instead, he stared at the designs on Pete's darker skin, wondering what they felt like. His eyes also roamed over Pete's hair, wondering if it was actually spiky feeling like his style suggests or if it were soft. He slid his hands underneath his legs to prevent him from running a stray hand through his hair or over his arms.

“Now who's staring?” Pete teased. Patrick jumped, startled at being called out. “No, it's fine. I'd stare too if I saw someone as hot as me.” He smiled again before finally pulling off of the road and into a parking lot.

Patrick rolled his eyes and focused on looking around where they had pulled up to, despite the smile tugging at his lips. Before Patrick even had a chance to undo his seat belt, Pete had bolted around to his side of the can and opened the door.

“Welcome to my apartment complex. My place is the little, tiny place of no hope up there on the left,” Pete said, pointing up to the second floor. He grabbed a hold of Patrick's arm and helped him out of the van. “Again, like the van, it's not much but... it's home.”

There was a tinge of sadness in Pete's voice that Patrick wished he could make disappear or at least ask about. Fortunately, it didn't last for long, and before he knew it he was being dragged up some metal stairs. He was thankful for the railing and Pete's support as they made their way up, otherwise he would have fallen right back down the stairs.

“Easy there, Stump,” Pete said, pushing him up the final stair. Patrick couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief as they walked a short ways to Pete's door on level ground. Stairs were going to be a new kind of challenge for him.

“Hey, Pete! If you want us to clean your apartment for you, you could at least provide us with dinner!” a familiar voice called out.

Patrick froze as he recognized the voice. It was the same voice that had called out to Pete that night on the beach. A man with curly hair was standing in Pete's doorway, having thrown open the door after he had heard them coming.

The man paused, taking in Patrick's wide and shocked stance. “Oh, uh, hi,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn't see you there.”

Pete rolled his eyes and tossed his backpack at this newcomer. “Stump, this is Joe. Joe, Stump,” he said. 

Joe caught Pete's bag and stuck a hand out to Patrick. “So, you're the guy Pete's been obsessing over,” he said. Patrick blushed and raised an eyebrow at his words. Before Joe could respond he was forced into a headlock by Pete, the two of them nearly wrestling themselves right over the railing.

A new guy stepped out of the apartment and took one look at the two of them before swinging the trash bag he was holding at them. Both of them yelped and glared at the man holding the bag.

“Would you two knock it off,” he said. Pete and Joe at least had the decency to pretend to be remorseful as they apologized to him.

“And this is Andy,” Pete said. “Andy, this is Stump.”

Andy raised an eyebrow at Patrick's odd nickname but said nothing, which Patrick was grateful for. As he stood there he couldn't help but wonder if tattoos were a super common thing among humans. After all, all of Pete's friends seemed to have them. But Andy's seemed to cover every single part of him in sight and they were super colorful. Joe's also had color to them, but they seemed to be more restricted to his arms, while Pete's mainly seemed to be composed of black ink. He wondered about the different colors and pictures the three men had permanently etched into their skins, but he didn't ask.

“Doesn't talk much, does he?” Joe asked as soon as it became apparent Patrick wasn't going to say anything. 

Patrick crossed his arms, hoping to just shrink in on himself. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, gently shaking him.

“Nah, that girl from the beach, Hayley, says Stump here can't speak. But he's pretty good at getting his point across,” Pete said brightly.

Confused looks were exchanged between Joe and Andy. They looked as if they had something they wanted to ask but wasn't sure how to ask or who should do it. 

After their conversation that involved no actual words (a feat that made Patrick jealous), Andy stepped forward. “Uh, Pete, I think-”

“That Joe's right for once and we should get some food? Great idea, I'll order a pizza or something!” Pete said quickly. He pushed Patrick in front of him and into the apartment. The look on Andy's face as they walked past told him whatever that was wasn't over.

Patrick took a hesitant step inside Pete's apartment. He honestly didn't know what to expect from it, so he wasn't sure if he was amazed or completely unsurprised. 

The first room was homey feeling, with posters in frames on the wall. There were several book shelves in the room, most of them overflowing with books and various knick-knacks. One of them was filled with CDs and a giant stereo with a cracked glass plate. The furniture was black but not all matching designs, as if there had been a bargainers attempt at decorating. Some trash and various items still littered the floor.

“We didn't have much time to work on this room,” Joe said almost carefully. “We were mainly working on the other rooms.”

Pete nodded his thanks and understanding. Patrick wasn't sure what was behind those words, but he knew that he wanted to find out.

“No, you guys have done great, really,” he said. He was quiet for a moment as he gazed around the room before seeming to snap back to reality. “So, Stump what do you think of pizza, huh? Got a favorite?”

The question caught him off guard. Of course he'd seen pizza before, but he'd never actually tried it. He shrugged and gave a tiny shake of his head.

Pete turned towards Joe. “So a salad for Andy and cheese pizza for us?” Joe nodded, pulling out his cell phone to call it in.

“Don't call that one place anymore. Their salads suck,” Andy said, throwing his trash bag towards the door. 

“You know if you ate pizza with us it'd taste much better,” Pete tempted.

Andy sighed, looking as if he was ready for a fight he'd had a million and one times before. “Pete, for the last time-”

Pete laughed and put his hands up. “I know, I know, I'm only kidding.” Pete turned around, noticing Patrick's confused stare. “Andy's a vegan,” he said as if it explained all.

Patrick cocked his head to the side, asking the obvious question. “It means I don't eat animals or their products,” Andy explained.

Patrick decided Andy would probably have struggled as a merman without being able to eat fish. He wondered how hard it was for a human to live that life style.

The door to the connecting room swung open as Joe stepped back in, having heard the end of their conversation. “Yup, Andy's going to save the world. Just like the mermaids in the ocean,” he said.

“Shut up,” Andy said, slapping Joe on the arm.

Ice flooded Patrick's veins. They knew that there were merfolk living in the sea? And they weren't just crazy hunters but seemingly regular, normal people? Pete's friends at that! Did they somehow know Patrick was one of them? Was this all just some kind of long con to get him to take them to his colony?

Fainting suddenly seemed likely.

“What? I'm just saying you wanna save some Ariel's nothing wrong with that,” Joe said, giving him a smack right back. “I wasn't teasing you because mermaids aren't real, now was I, Pete?”

“C'mon you guys,” Pete said, giving an awkward smile. “Let's just drop it.”

Joe stood frozen for a moment, staring at Pete. “Oh my God, he's got to you. You can't tell me you really believe in mermaids now, do you?”

Discretely, almost unnoticeable, Pete glanced towards Patrick. It was so quick that had Patrick not been so focused on Pete, he might have missed it. He was fairly sure everyone else had.“I'm just saying it's not the craziest thing ever.”

“Just cause Stump here is as pretty as a mermaid, doesn't make him one,” Joe said jokingly. This earned him a shove from Pete and Andy and almost made Patrick's heart stop.

“I'm just saying that if there are mermaids or whatever in the ocean they need to be protected, not hunted like they have been lately,” Andy said.

Patrick decided right then that he liked Andy. He was the kind of human that deserved to be in those waters, and not the hunters who'd recently set up shop. He gave him a thumbs up to let him know he supported his statements, which earned him a huge smile and a rather harsh pat on the back.

“Stump's on my side, three against one, you lose, Joe,” he said.

Joe laughed and rolled his eyes. “We could have been an awesome team, Stump.”

XXX

That night Patrick decided he needed to stay human if only for the food. After eating two delicious, life changing slices of cheese pizza Andy had let him have some salad. He'd never imagined eating something that was so similar to grass would taste as good as it did. It reminded him of the seaweed that they would sometimes eat with fish, but it was undoubtedly better. The three of them had seemed astounded that Patrick had never had pizza or a salad before. Or the apparently “off-brand but just as good as name-brand” cookies that Pete had pulled out once they were done.

He'd been shoving a second cookie into his mouth when Joe had sat down next to him on the beat up and overstuffed couch. He turned his head to look at him and tried to pretend his face wasn't smeared in cookie crumbs.

“So, where are you from?” he asked, his tone light.

Patrick tried to swallow the mound of cookies in his mouth but suddenly found it too dry. He coughed slightly and Joe handed him a bottle of water. After sipping it carefully, hoping to burn up at least a small amount of time, he turned back to him and made a wave motion with his hand.

Joe scrunched his brow. “Is that sign language?” he asked and again Patrick still wasn't sure so he just shrugged and did it again.

“Water? Ocean?” he asked. I meant before the pier. Where did you live before then?”

The wave died. He wasn't sure what to say to that. He'd never really thought about the question before then. He'd almost forgot that humans didn't come from the ocean. It seems that he hadn't really planned any of this very well, if at all.

“Maybe it stands for Hawaii?” Andy suggested as he and Pete both walked back into the room. Sometime during Patrick's whole taste test they had disappeared into one of the back rooms.

The new human thought about Hawaii. He'd met a few merfolk from the islands near there enough to know a little bit about the place. It was beautiful and full of fish and the perfect temperature year round. The only bad thing was the terrible tourists.

“No way. I love Hawaii! I mean, I've never been, but I wanna go someday,” Joe said excitedly. A look of complete confusion came over his face. “Wait, if your from Hawaii, how did you end up here?”

Patrick looked away and shrugged. He awkwardly scratched at his legs near his scar, a habit that used to feel good against his blue scales, but now just hurt his red-tinted skin. 

When he looked back up he noticed a look of anger on Pete's face, yet it wasn't directed at him or anyone else in the room. It was as if he'd just witnessed something happening somewhere else.

Joe leaned back on the couch before standing up. “Sorry, Stump,” he said. “None of those questions are really any of my business.”

Patrick was confused but thankful for Joe's sudden change in demeanor. He wasn't great at communicating with humans yet, but he was working on it. The fact that Joe had been talking with him at all had reminded him a bit of Brendon, which had certainly put the human in a a favorable light.

Goodnights were exchanged and before Patrick knew what was happening they were out the door. As Andy left, guiding Joe out with a hand to his back as if he were pushing him, he turned and gave a look to Pete. The look seemed to say so many things yet Patrick wasn't able to understand any of them. Pete only nodded, barely acknowledging them.

As soon as they were gone Pete awkwardly shifted from foot to foot, looking at Patrick. It seemed odd for him to be nervous. He honestly seemed so full of life and removed from the man Patrick had hauled onto the beach he almost didn't believe that it was him.

“So, do you want to see your room?” Pete asked. He glanced down the hallway Patrick had yet to go down. The thought of having a room, _his_ room, in Pete's apartment made him happier than anyone would probably ever believe.

He nodded eagerly, wiping away the last of the crumbs from his mouth. Pete smiled at him as he drew closer, bringing a hand up to his mouth and brushing against it with his fingers.

“Crumbs,” he said by way of explanation. Patrick could only nod. It was either nod or do something stupid, like try to kiss Pete right there.

Pete led the way down the hall, stopping at the last one on the left. He gave a timid 'ta-dah', as he shoved the door open and switched on the light. His eyes watched Patrick as he took in every ounce of the room, seeming to hesitant at the door.

“It's yours,” Pete said. “I figured you at least deserved a place to stay after saving my life, and I had a spare room, so yeah.”

Patrick could still feel Pete's eyes on him as he moved into the room. It was painted a pale blue color that reminded him of a soft sky, with a bed stuck right in the middle. The room wasn't very big but had a good sized closet, which was shoved halfway full of things, apparently being used as a storage place. A desk, a dresser, and a night stand seemed to be the only other items that were occupying the room.

It was bare but it was home.

“I also have these for you,” Pete said. He walked over to the dresser and opened it. Inside were a couple of pairs of loose looking pants and shorts with a few t-shirts thrown on top. “I figured you didn't really have anything to wear so I had the guys bring over some things I thought might fit you.” He held out the red-plaid pajama bottoms and a black shirt from the drawer and shrugged. “They look pretty close.”

Patrick stared at the clothes for a second before understanding what exactly it was Pete was wanting from him. He took them and glanced around, figuring he'd need a place to sit down to change. His first experience putting on pants was not yet lost on him.

“You can change in the bathroom,” Pete said, misreading Patrick's looks. He must have thought it awkward to be in the same room with Patrick while he was planning on being naked. He'd never understood humans endless need to cover their bodies, but if that was what they did then he would too.

Pete led Patrick to the room next door, which was at the end of the hall in the middle between Patrick's room and whatever room was on the right. Once he flipped on the light white tiles shone back at them. A rusted looking shower head stood over an old-timey looking tub. Patrick had seen things like this tossed carelessly into the ocean by hurtful humans. Despite its apparent age the tub looked well cared for, as did the rest of the bathroom. It was as if this room and Patrick's new room were the only ones spared from the hurricane of mess that is Pete. Or maybe they were the only ones that were really cleaned by Andy and Joe earlier.

Patrick stepped inside and Pete shut the door, saying he'd be waiting in the living room. The tiles were so cold they felt like ice against his bare feet. He regretted taking his shoes off, as they would have at least protected his feet even with the annoying plastic part.

Peeling off his old clothes that he had worn for far too long, he managed to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He'd barely paid attention to it when he'd first walked in, but now he was fascinated by it.

He could see what he could only assume to be himself staring back, blue eyes wide in wonder. He'd seen himself a million and one times back when he had been a merman, but this was the first real look at his human self.

His blondish hair was just the same as always as were his eyes. His face and basically every other part of his body was an angry mixture of red and pink, not the usual pale pink color. He pressed two fingers to his arm and hissed when it hurt. Now he understood why humans bitched about sunburns.

He had to step back and stand on his tip toes to see the rest of him. He again couldn't help but notice how odd his body was now. He felt too short on his own legs and had to remind himself that his tail _had_ been shorter than most other merfolks. Or at least merfolks like Brendon and Travie and Gabe. His legs also seemed so pale compared to the rest of his burned red skin.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there looking at himself when a knock came to the door. Patrick toppled from his toes to the floor, hissing with pain as his overheated skin hit the tile.

“Stump, are you okay? You've been in there a while,” Pete asked through the door.

Patrick was eternally grateful Pete hadn't just opened the door. If it was weird for humans to be completely naked in front of each other then the last thing he wanted was for Pete to walk in and make everything awkward. It's hard to fall in love with someone when it's too awkward.

Going as fast as he could, he manged to pull on the loose pair of sleep pants before tapping on the door. He wasn't sure if it was meant to be a reassurance or an invitation so he let Pete decide.

The first thing Pete saw when he walked int was Patrick sitting on the floor, leaning against the old bathtub. He'd managed to pull his pajamas on, but not his shirt. And Pete could certainly see why.

“Holy shit,” Pete said, stepping closer until he was practically leaning over him.

Patrick froze, concerned he'd done something wrong. Was it weird for humans to be around others with their shirts off? It happened all the time on the beach, sometimes even the girls at night.

“You really are burned aren't you?” Pete asked, looking over his skin. Patrick blushed, not that anyone could tell, over the concern in Pete's voice. “No wonder you're just leaning here.”

He did have to admit that it felt pretty good leaning there, even if it was making him cold. Everything on land seemed to do that though. It seemed to be a constant battle between sweat and shivers.

“Come on, let's get you to bed and then I'll get you some aloe vera,” Pete said, pulling Patrick to his feet. He guided him easily to the next room, gently pushing Patrick down on to the bed and then disappeared. Patrick hadn't even realized how tired he was until he was laying there waiting for Pete to come back. His mind was slowly drifting off to sleep until he heard a particularly loud band in the room next door, Pete clearly rummaging for the aloe vera. He returned a few moments later carrying a bottle with clear gel inside. He handed it to Patrick, who look at the bottle in confusion, and stood there.

“Uh, do you not know how to use it?” Pete asked. The question was rudely phrased but there was no heat or mocking tone to it, just simple curiosity.

Patrick stook his head, handing the bottle back to Pete with an awkward smile. Pete glanced back and forth between the bottle and Patrick, clearly debating what it was he should do. It would be more than a little weird for him to rub this stranger with aloe vera, but then again, he'd already invited him to live with him. They had moved well past weird by this point.

“Lay down,” Pete said. “On your stomach.”

Patrick gave him a cautious look before eventually doing so. His face pulled into a grimace as his skin brushed against the cotton of the bed sheet. Eventually he relaxed, admiring how truly soft the bed was. It reminded him of sand on the ocean floor but warm, which felt good to him but terrible on his burn.

The click of the lid sounded and then the sound of the gel coming out. Pete's hand hovered awkwardly above Patrick's arms and the back of his neck, steeling himself for the uncomfortablness of the situation. Finally, he brought his hands down and tried to rub the gel into Patrick's overheated skin.

Pete was amazed the kid hadn't managed to get heatstroke with how bad his sunburn was. Had he never been to a beach with sun before? You'd figure living in Hawaii or whatever would have prepared him for it. Then again, he was homeless with the only possessions he owned being the clothes on his back. He probably didn't have any sun screen or anything. How the hell had he managed to survive this long?

' _Because he's not from the beach or Hawaii and you know it,'_ a voice deep within himself whispered. _'He saved you. You know what you saw.'_

He brought himself back to the moment, shaking off those thoughts. They weren't important right now, maybe not ever. He'd barely spoken to Andy or Joe about what had happened but they had made their opinions quite clear on the matter.

Patrick's shoulders were now completely relaxed, as was the rest of his body. He'd first tensed up, the cold causing him to shiver at the contact. Now, he was nearly limp, sleep washing over him like water on the beach.


	6. Curiosity: Satisfied or Sparked?

Pete hesitated a moment. He'd finished applying aloe vera to the back of his neck and arms, but now he was stuck. Did he continue down towards his legs where the scar was, or did he just try and roll him over to get the front? Either way would be more than a little odd.

His decision was made for him once Stump sighed in his sleep and rolled over. His eyes were closed, hiding those beautiful eyes Pete knows he saw down there on the beach, no matter what anyone said. He reached forward, rubbing a small amount onto the younger man's nose, hoping that it wouldn't peel. That would hurt worse than the burn and that made Pete feel terrible. It made him wish that he would have found Stump sooner.

He rubbed the aloe vera onto his arms and then quietly backed out of the room. One final glance behind him and he turned out the light, watching as Stump's chest rose and fell in the dark.

He signed and walked into his own bedroom next to the bathroom. He noticed that neither Joe or Andy had attempted to clean the room, although there were traces of them being there. His notebooks had been moved, his pens laying at odds with each other, some of his clothes shuffled into the wrong corner. All hints that they had been there and had been looking for something.

The thought should have made Pete angry, and it did to a certain extent. He could hardly blame them when he knows that had the positions been reversed he would have done the same. Faintly, he wondered if they had found enough to satisfy their curiosity or something to spark it.

That night a little bit over a week ago had been a mistake. A terrible one that had almost cost him his life, but still just a mistake. He just hadn't been able to deal with everything anymore and the water had been so tempting... He'd swallowed a handful of pills, tied the anchor to his feet, and hit the water before he was entirely sure it had happened.

He'd once read stories about survivors from jumping off of the Golden Gate Bridge or something similar and how they said that they realized on the way down that all of their mistakes could have been solved. Too bad they hadn't realized that until halfway down, which was usually too late for most people.

Pete would like to say he realized this too, but he hadn't. He'd breathed in the water and didn't think another thought until he was being hauled onto land again, fire ironically burning in his lungs and vomit coming from every place possible. After he'd rolled away from his own sick he'd saw him.

Lying next to him, gasping as if he were still drowning, was a younger man. He'd had strawberry blonde hair, blue-green-brown-yellow eyes that couldn't seem to pick a color and sparkled with every flash and bang from a firework, and a voice that sounded as if a god were speaking. He'd jerked towards him, trying to feel him, see if he were real. That's when he'd finally noticed what he was singing.

'Those are my words,' Pete thought. 'This angel had my words and they actually sound good coming from him.'

Another noise, Joe's voice screaming his name, finally reached his ears. He wanted to yell back, ask him to get help for him and the angel next to him, but no sound had came out.

The wide-eyed look on the blond's face had grown again, until he let out a breathy, “Pete?”

Pete had never heard a more beautiful sound than the sound of the angel saying his name. He wanted- no, needed to hear it again. He wanted to ask for him to say it again, but those beautiful eyes had closed, a small smile coming to his lips and, God, if that didn't break Pete's heart because he knew a dying smile when he saw one.

“Patrick!” someone had called out, just as desperately as Joe had. Then, before he could do anything to stop it, his angel was being taken from him, dragged back into the water.

Pete had struggled against sluggish limbs to reach for the younger man, but it had been useless. His hand had barely grazed the angel's before it was ripped away.

That was when Pete was properly able to see his savior. A large, blue fin with some kind of discoloration across it slid into the water, dragged by two other people with fins as well. He'd been shocked and pissed, knowing he and Joe were going to owe Andy a lot of money.

Joe found him moments later, muttering incoherently about angels and mermaids.

XXX

He knew what he saw must have been real, at least part of it. Which parts he wasn't sure though. They were all washed up and mixed together, none of them making any proper sort of sense, such as the fins or the beautiful voice he'd heard. He knew there was no way his imagination had dreamed up someone like Stump yet it still didn't fit. He clearly wasn't a mermaid or merman or whatever, and he wasn't even capable of speaking. But he _had_ been there that night and must somehow know about Pete's letters. Unless his mind had created that part.

“You've watched too many Disney movies, man,” Joe had said a day after his “accident” as they were calling it. “No cute guy pulled you from the water, much less one who could sing. You're just thirsty for us to get a new lead singer, preferably one who's hot.”

Pete had crossed his arms, hoping his anger was apparent. As if the annoying shrinks and itchy bed covers and clothes at the hospital weren't enough, now he had to listen to Joe rag on him and seemingly try to “diagnose him”. Although, he supposed that was really about half of their friendship, one of them constantly taking the piss out of the other. “It's real.”

“I'm just saying,” Joe said, leaning forward. “You've always loved Ariel a little too much to be healthy. Make her a dude and you'd have your way with her in a heartbeat.” He winked.

A pillow was thrown at his head. “You're fucking gross Trohman,” he said with no real heat behind it.

So what if Joe had been right? That didn't mean what he had saw wasn't real. There had been “sightings” of mermaids in the area for several years now, why was it so hard to believe he'd been saved?

The next day when he was permitted to leave the hospital he sat in Joe's old van, listening to music, partly angry and partly sad that they weren't his words sung by his siren.

“Are you sure you wanna go home?” Joe asked. “There's plenty of room with Andy and me. I can grab anything you want from your apartment and you can stay with us.”

Pete picked at lint on his pants. It was a nice offer, truly it was, but he knew why it was even being offered in the first place. Everyone was worried about him and a repeat of the pier. Living with Joe and Andy and disrupting their lives wasn't going to make that feeling go away though.

“Nah, I'm good,” he said. He smiled. “Besides, I think the place could use a little redecorating.”

Joe had clearly still been worried but let it go. It wouldn't do him any good to piss Pete off and push him away.

So maybe Pete's mind had been more than a little fucked up on meds and lack of oxygen when Stump had saved him. Maybe he had seen the Little Mermaid too many times to count and maybe he had been hoping for some kind of fairy-tale life that wasn't very likely to happen. Either way he didn't really care.

He'd found Stump and he had been real. He had really saved him and was currently laying in the room across the hall. He might not have had a voice like an angel or a tail or anything, but he was real and that was enough for him.

He knew that Andy and Joe weren't exactly thrilled with his.... obsession. They had urged him to stop going to the pier, to get back to making music or really anything that didn't have to do with the water, but he hadn't been able to. Even before his “accident” he'd been drawn to the pier where he had heard the angel. Usually he could hear it quietly, almost as if it were unreal or imagined. It wasn't until the first night he met Stump that he actually thought the voice was something real.

His friends, being the great people that they were, had tried to keep him busy. They'd tried to drag him out of his apartment and away to anywhere but the beach. Especially after his “accident” and his insistence that he find his savior with the beautiful voice.

Pete had hoped that by bringing Stump, who matched his description of his angel perfectly aside from his lack of voice, (and fucking fins that no one would believe anyways) to the apartment and introducing them then they would understand. That had unfortunately not been the case.

Stump and Joe had both been chilling in the living room, Joe's attention focused on whatever was now playing on the TV and Stump by the cookies and pizza. Pete wondered what kind of life he had lived before now that led him to act as if he had never tried any of the foods they had offered him. Maybe his parents were over-protective of him growing up? Even if that was the case, he looked to be about Joe's age, which meant he would have been old enough to have been on his own for a while, but then again it was possible he had been on the streets since then, which would certainly limit his eating options.

Pete had smiled at Andy as he was led into the “spare” room that now belonged to Stump. He had to admit that he was incredibly impressed by what his friends had been able to do in a couple of short hours. He would really have to find a better way to repay them than some decent pizzas and soggy salad.

“The place looks great, dude, thanks,” Pete said sincerely. He couldn't help but notice how bare the room was now. Maybe they could find some decorations Stump would like to liven the place up a bit.

Andy nodded, silently agreeing. They had worked theirs butts off after all. He looked at Pete and sighed. Clearly there was something he wanted to discuss yet he didn't really seem to know how to approach it. This wasn't really unusual for his normally silent friend, which led him to wait until he was ready.

“Pete,” he said quietly. “What are you doing?”

Pete gave him a confused look. “What do you mean, what am I doing?” he asked.

Andy shifted from foot to foot, clearly not happy he had been the one chosen for this project. While he wasn't exactly great with words he knew it had still been a better option than Joe. He generally tried to help, but would somehow end up in a yelling match, most likely because he and Pete were so similarly tempered.

“I mean us clearing out this room and you bringing home an absolute stranger and insisting that he saved you,” Andy said. His voice was quiet, yet almost desperate to get Pete to understand.

Pete's face hardened. “He did save me, Andy.”

Andy held up his hands, heading off an argument, or at least trying to. “Okay, but you also said that the Little Mermaid or whatever saved you.” Pete exhaled basically through his teeth.

“You're the one who tried to get Joe and I to believe that there were mermaids in the ocean!” Pete exclaimed. It wasn't fair that his friend was now trying to turn it around on him and make him seem crazy.

“And maybe that was my mistake,” Andy said calmly and evenly. He shook his head. “Look, all I'm saying is, you don't even know the guy, you don't even know his name. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to have us empty out this room and have him move in.”

Pete clearly picked up on what Andy was saying but ignored it. That would end up being a whole other fight. “He's homeless, Andy, and he looks like he was a day away from sunstroke. Not to mention probably starving if the way he eats is anything to go by.”

Pete was a good guy. Genuinely, he was a very sweet person and Andy always hated to watch that be taken advantage of time and time again. Did he think that Stump was going to do that? No, not really. But it was almost conditioned into him. To see the threats that Pete couldn't or wouldn't.

“I understand,” Andy said, although Pete doubted he did. If he understood then he never would have brought any of this up. Instead he would have been happy for Pete, maybe even thrilled that he had found Stump.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Andy said. “I'm just worried that this is all happening a little too fast. For both of you. Pete, he's a mute person who doesn't even know sign language or how to write at all. And with a scar like that on his legs, I just worry that he or someone in his life, might be trouble.”

This was the first time either Andy or Joe had pointed out Stump's scar and Pete was almost surprised. It was rather large and it definitely didn't seem to have been an accident. He didn't know if it actually had anything to do with Stump being unable to talk, but it did seem to set off Hayley's radars and it did seem to connect to a much larger story.

“He saved me, Andy,” Pete repeated, not knowing how else to get his point across. “I know it was him that pulled me from the water so Joe could find me. If he hadn't done that, I would have definitely been dead.”

The tense silence was heavy between the two friends. It was one thing to know what your friend had attempted to do. It was another to have him confirm it out loud and have him state that he was only still alive because of a stranger.

Despite his better instincts telling him not to, Andy hugged Pete. He wanted his friend to know that he was there for him, even if he thought the mute man was somehow a singing mermaid or something. If it made Pete happy and kept him healthy and alive, well, then that's really all he could ask for.

After he and Andy were done they'd walked in and saw Joe and Stump sitting around “talking”. Just seeing Stump awkwardly scratch at his scar had set off Pete's instincts to “protect” and “defend”. He'd always been pretty loyal to his friends before then, willing to get into almost any fist fight growing up whether it was some idiot running his mouth or someone trying to beat up on someone less fortunate than them. That was the way he had justified his anger towards whoever had scarred Stump's legs. He'd feel that way towards anyone he cared about, especially if that person had helped to save his life.

Still, it worried him. Hayley had chased him down after he had left the beach earlier, refusing to let go of the van door until he'd unlocked it and let her in. He'd made a bad joke, about how girls usually ran away from creepy vans, not into them, which earned him a middle finger from the bright haired girl.

“He says that you didn't hurt him, but I don't know if I can believe that,” Hayley had said, her eyes searching him. “I see you around here all the time, ignoring everyone else around the pier. Now he shows up and you show back up and suddenly he's going to live with you? You can't blame me for being a little worried about your intentions with him.”

Pete would have laughed at the statement if he hadn't honestly been so damn offended. “Alright, first of all,” he had said, sitting up straighter and ticking off on his fingers. “you can stop saying that as if I'm some sort of creep. Van jokes aside, I'm a pretty normal guy. Second, why would I want to hurt the guy? I barely even know him. Third, like I said, I barely even know him and he still saved my life. Why would I want a guy like that to have to live under the pier for the rest of his life? And fourth, who are you? The pier police? His mom?”

She squinted her eyes in confusion. “He saved your life?” she asked.

Pete sighed. None of this had went as he had planned and that definitely wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. Nor would he have it with Hayley, as he defintely didn't believe that she deserved to hear it. “Yes, he did. Now will you get out of my van?”

Any other day he would have felt at least a little bit guilty at being so rude to her, but not then. If she wanted to imply that he had less than honorable intentions with Stump, then that was her problem, and he could be at least a little bit rude to her. Thankfully she'd just gotten out of the van, no more questions asked. She did give him one more warning though, to take care of Stump for her while he was staying with him. 

“If I find out you did anything to him, it's your head, Wentz,” she'd said with a smile. “And trust me, I always find out.” He'd drove off after that, leaving her standing in the parking lot on the hot asphalt.

Pete cleaned the aloe vera off his hands and laid down in bed that night, thinking about what he could possibly do next. His top priority was going to be to figure out Stump's actual name and a better way for them to communicate. Maybe they could enroll in sign classes together? But what if that made Stump uncomfortable? Surely there must be a reason why he'd never learned before, and he must have some way of communicating now. How had he been living on the streets if not?

Worrying and thinking about all these things was doing absolutely nothing for Pete's brain. Instead of trying to figure out anything else, he rolled over and turned his lamp off.

Sleep didn't come easy, but it also didn't elude him all night. He'd like to think that knowing Stump was a real person might have had more than a little something to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not a lot happened in this chapter, which I know is frustrating, but the next bit that I'm going to post flows better if it's together and unfortunately would have made this a monster of a chapter if I kept it together. I will try to update again soon though!


	7. Simple Dreams Might Be The Hardest To Achieve

Waking up in a bed was probably one of the most surreal moments Patrick had ever lived through. While he had briefly acknowledged it the night before, he couldn't help but notice how soft the bed was. It looked like it belonged to the sky as one of its clouds, not stuck in someone's bedroom.

It was still early morning, and while Patrick usually slept well into the afternoon as a merman, he felt compelled to get up. He had no clue what he was supposed to do now that he had actually found Pete, nor did he have a clue how to make him fall in love with him. He'd never actually attempted to fall in love with anyone or tried to get anyone to fall in love with him before, so this was new territory in more ways than one. Maybe the best place to start would be with what Pete was interested in?

Despite all the information about Pete in his letters and lyrics, he still didn't know a lot about him. What was his favorite color? Did he have a favorite food? Had he grown up here his whole life? He didn't write about the beach a lot, which seemed to be a trend for those who grew up around it. Patrick really didn't know the answers to any of these, but he intended to find out.

His body was a little sore from the sun burn but seemed to feel much less... hot, than it had the night before. He would really have to thank Pete for the aloe vera.

The door creaked as he opened it. He winced, hoping that he hadn't managed to wake Pete by opening a dumb door. A pause to check for any sounds didn't reveal any, so he crept forward. He was intent on going towards the living room, which probably had the most information about Pete in it, aside from his own bedroom.

The apartment was strangely quiet, a feature Patrick never would have associated with Pete before. Automatically, Patrick was drawn towards the shelf full of CDs and things called vinyls, that just reminded him of large CDs. There were so many and so many different looking genres Patrick couldn't help but wonder if they were all his, although it was obvious from his apartment that he had a wide variety of tastes. 

Next, his eyes fell onto the guitar he had hardly noticed the night before. It was shoved into the corner of the room, but it was still placed correctly onto its stand, as if someone had simply needed it out of the way at the moment. Occasionally, one of the teens who sneaked onto the private beach would bring a guitar to play, or sometimes a person on the pier would play for money. It fascinated Patrick, as he'd never seen one that close before, and merfolk instruments tended to be simple and hard to get a hold of. This was another reason why sirens were so well wanted.

Before he could second guess himself, he reached out and grabbed the guitar. He held it in a way similar to how he'd seen the people on the beach hold it and gently strummed a thumb over the strings. They vibrated gently back at him, a tiny noise coming from them. He smiled and strummed again, appreciating the noise that they made.

“Do you like my bass?” Pete asked.

His voice startled Patrick so much he almost threw the instrument. Thankfully, his fingers managed to cling on tightly despite the heart attack he'd just suffered.

Pete wore a huge smile and let out a little laugh at Patrick's expense. He then pointed to the instrument. “It sounds better when it's plugged in. Do you know how to play?” 

Patrick shook his head sadly. He wished he knew how to play the instrument, or any instrument really, but he didn't. At least then it would be some kind of musical relief, seeing as how he was lacking his voice. He handed the guitar over, a little embarrassed to have been “caught” with it.

“I'm sure I could teach you,” Pete said. He picked at a few strings, causing the guitar to let out a better sound than Patrick's mindless strumming. “That is, if you want.”

Patrick nodded, wanting that almost more than anything. Pete laughed again, this time at this eagerness, before placing the guitar back. 

“Sounds like a plan then,” he said. “But first, I think we need breakfast.”

Patrick couldn't help but agree. Now that he was paying attention, he was starving. His stomach even growled in support, much to his embarrassment. He could only hope that Pete hadn't been able to hear it.

“I don't really have any food in here, so we'll have to go out to eat,” Pete said. “I could really go for some pancakes or some waffles right now anyways.” Patrick had no clue what those were, but he figured they must be good if Pete wanted them. He was the one who had suggested the pizza last night after all.

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in a booth at some diner, glancing at each other over their menus. Pete had managed to find a clean t-shirt and a pair of black shorts for Patrick to wear before hurrying him off to breakfast. Now he was discussing all the things they needed to buy now that Patrick was going to be living with him, such as clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, and more food. The way he said these things, so matter-of-factly helped to reassure Patrick that he wasn't being a burden to Pete.

“So, Stump, what looks good?” Pete asked, looking away from his own menu.

Patrick's face went red as he instantly thought, you. For once he was grateful for not having a voice, as he definitely wouldn't have been able to have bit that one back. He did had a bad habit of putting his fins in his mouth and saying the most awkward thing he possibly could, and his thoughts just reflected that.

Food wise, almost everything looked good. How on earth was he supposed to choose between so many items? He waved his arm in an “everything” motion over the menu, and Pete laughed again. Patrick didn't know what he had done but he hoped to keep on doing it if it meant Pete would keep laughing.

“Yeah, it's hard to choose here,” Pete said. “Have you ever been here before?”

Patrick shook his head.

Pete tilted his head at Patrick, as if he was considering something, before pointing to an item. “I think you'd like this. You look like you've got a sweet tooth.”

His finger hovered over a couple of pancakes covered in some kind of red syrup. Strawberry flavored if the caption was correct.

Their waitress was a sweet, young lady who smiled kindly at both Pete and Patrick. When she learned Patrick couldn't speak she was very patient, waiting for him to point to what he wanted. Patrick decided life essentially needed more pictures you could point to. 

She placed their drinks on the table and took Pete's menu, leaving Patrick's as he seemed to be intent on studying it. “Be careful, sweetie,” she said to Pete. “That coffee was just made so it's super hot okay?” 

Patrick glanced over to see Pete had already wrapped his hands around the mug she had set in front of his and was pouring something in that read “sugar” on the side. He thanked the waitress as she walked away, his concentration almost completely on the cup before him.

Patrick glanced at his own drink, a creative item named “orange juice” which just appeared to be a juice that was in fact orange. Pete had also chose it for him.

“You gotta make sure it's sweet enough,” Pete said, stirring a spoon into the cup. “Otherwise it'll just taste like tar and the energy won't even be worth it.”

Patrick creased his eyebrows in slight concern at Pete. Who would ever want to drink anything that tasted like tar? Especially if it required that much “sugar” to make it even slightly enjoyable.

Pete went on, not seeming to notice the concern he was drawing from Patrick. “I'd really like to have something sweeter already made, but the only kind of coffee they serve here is black. It's either good coffee and terrible food, or great food with terrible coffee.” He smiled at Patrick. “Oh well. You win some, you lose some.”

Patrick's face must still have been scrunched up because Pete laughed and set the mug down. “I'm only kidding, Stump. The coffee isn't that bad. Do you wanna try it?” He sipped a bit out of the mug and then held it out to Patrick. 

Patrick took the mug, startled by how warm the ceramic material already was. Why would a human find this to be a pleasing thing to drink? 

“She was right when she said it's a bit on the hot side, so be careful,” Pete said.

Patrick nodded and lifted the cup to his lips. He took a tiny sip, hardly even a taste, but it was enough. He stuck his tongue out at the bitterness that now covered it and slid Pete's mug back to him. Pete laughed again at Patrick's goofy face, covering his own face with his hand and resting it on the table.

“Shit, Stump, I didn't think it was that bad,” he said, still laughing. He lifted his head to see Patrick's glaring face staring at him mug and began to laugh again. “Just drink your orange juice, dude.”

Patrick hoped that his own drink would be a hell of a lot better than whatever the heck it was Pete was drinking. He took a cautious sip of it, pleased when he noticed that it was a cooler temperature and tasted so much sweeter than that disaster in a mug.

“Is that okay? Or do you want something else?” Pete asked, his smile still in place but still ready to help Patrick if he needed him to. Patrick just gave him a thumbs up in response, which made Pete's smile spread impossibly further.

When their waitress returned with their delicious looking food she looked at Patrick. He tore his eyes away from the meal to look at her, wondering what it was he had done. 

“I'm assuming you don't know any sign language?” she asked hesitantly. He shook his head, hoping that it would take the edge off of her anxiousness about her question.

“Well I don't know a lot, but I went back there and looked this one up,” she said, her smile returning. “Do you wanna learn how to sign pancake?” 

He nodded his head, eager to learn what sing language actually was. He could feel Pete's eyes on him, staring at him, but he ignored it. 

She placed one of her hands up, palm out, and then laid the other one across it. She then “flipped” it once and laid it still on top of their other almost like a fish flopping on land. Apparently it had something to do with how they were cooked, which went right over his head so he would just have to take her word on it.

Both Pete and Patrick had barely waited until after she had told them to enjoy their meal and walked away before digging in. As soon as Patrick clumsily cut up a piece of pancake and stuck it in his mouth he was convinced he had died and gone to some sort of paradise, because there was no way that anyone on earth could make something so delicious. He knew he was eating a like wild-guppy or shark, but he hardly cared. How could he possibly pass up an opportunity to taste as much of the human food he could? 

Thankfully there was no need for him to be embarrassed, as Pete was eating much the same. It wasn't long until both of their meals were gone. Patrick could hardly believe that not only he had ate his meal so fast, but so had Pete.

“So I'm taking it you liked it?” Pete asked teasingly. Again, he wondered if Stump had ever even had pancakes before then, because he hadn't acted like he knew how to eat them. Instead he had waited until Pete had started and then followed his lead.

Patrick nodded and pointed to the red syrup and made a heart with his hands, which earned him another laugh. He also furrowed his brow in concentration and carefully signed “pancake” to Pete, quickly smiling after he did so.

Instead of a laugh like he had been expecting, he was given a thoughtful look. It broke a second later though and Pete's smile was back. “So I'm taking it you loved the strawberries?” he asked, which earned him a nod. “Well, remind me and we can buy some later.”

Pete leaned across the table and patted Patrick's arm. “I'll be right back, I'm going to go and pay,” he said. 

Patrick glanced around the diner, wondering if anyone could see him blushing through his sunburn. Across the room was a couple of older gentlemen who actually seemed to be a real couple. One of them smiled at Patrick and gave him a thumbs up while glancing towards Pete. This just made him blush harder.

“Let's go, Stump!” Pete happily called as he walked back to the table. He didn't need to be asked twice as he practically bolted from his seat. Just before he hit the door he heard one of the men say, “Ah, young love,” with a sigh to his partner.

He nearly stumbled into the door at that.

XXX

Shopping for clothes was a little... difficult to say the least. As merfolk never really wore any form of clothing, other than the occasional shirt or skirt they managed to steal from a human, and usually only in a joking manner anyways, he wasn't used to the texture of the material touching his skin everywhere constantly. Not to mention the fact that he had no clue what size he was or even what he should be looking for. And the changing rooms had been a disaster area all their own.

Thankfully Pete took it all in stride. He didn't even seem to be bothered by any of it at all. When he'd asked Patrick what he wanted to try on and only received a shrug of confusion, he'd picked a few items and handed them to Patrick. Most of the clothes were black, which made Patrick and little uncomfortable. He was used to being surrounded by colors all of the time, whether it be from the regular sea-life or merfolk fins, that all the lack of color was starting to make him anxious.

He snagged a blue t-shirt that looked to be about his size and smiled when he noticed it matched his non-existent tail. Pete looked at the way Patrick hugged the shirt before glancing a the pile of black clothes in the basket. He held up a finger, telling Patrick to hold on, before he went running off deeper into the store.

Pete was gone long enough to make Patrick wonder if he should go and look for him. Just as he had decided he probably should, Pete slid around the corner, his arms weighed down with more blue garments than Patrick could believe. Pete gave him a huge smile as he tossed the clothes into the cart.

“I think you'd look good in the blue,” Pete said, never once breaking eye contact. “Most of them will match your eyes and your cute little flip flops, too.”

All in all the trip to the store had went better than Patrick had really imagined it would, despite it's huge setbacks (seriously, the changing room nearly had a new hole in the wall and his elbow now had a giant bruise). He ended up buying most of the blue shirts because Pete insisted that he had been right about them looking good on him. He'd stuck with mostly black shorts and things called “skinny” jeans, as Pete reassured him that they would go with almost anything. Their last order of business had been a pair of black boots and another pair of flip flops.

He felt bad at not being able to help Pete pay for them, but Pete reassured him it was fine. It was as if he could see the worry in Patrick's eyes and know exactly what he had been thinking.

“I'm repaying you, dude, for saving my life. I can't do that if you keep on looking like a kicked puppy dog,” he said as he handed a bag to Patrick.

While Patrick was thankful to have something he could call his, he was a bit sad. His own clothes meant that he wouldn't be able to wear Pete's anymore, a fact that depressed him far more than it should have. Pete's clothes hadn't fit him perfectly or anything, but they had made him feel safer somehow.

As they slid back into Joe's van, Patrick wondered if he ever planned on returning it. The van had still been in the lot when they'd taken it to go get breakfast that morning, and as far as Patrick was aware, Joe hadn't asked for it back yet.

He picked a few CDs off of the floor and looked through them. If the variety of covers on cases was anything to go by, there was also a rather large collection in there. Eventually he landed on one and waved it at Pete, who smile in return.

“Do you wanna listen to it?” he asked. At Patrick's eager nod he helped him insert the CD and turned the volume up while waiting for the first song to play.

Once it did Patrick was again convinced he had died that night and was now in some odd, twisted form of heaven. The music wasn't like that of merfolks, which was as flowy and as natural as the waves in the ocean. This was artificial, its instruments sounding nothing like the ones from the sea. Even the drum, something that should be pretty consistent across cultures, sounded different. He loved it.

Before long he was tapping along on the dash to the rhythm the drummer was keeping. He might not have his voice, but he did still have his love for music.

Pete kept sending looks his way as they drove home, splitting his attention between the road and Patrick. “I didn't know you knew how to drum,” Pete said and then promptly wanted to kick himself. Of course he didn't know he drummed, he barely even knew him at all.

Patrick could feel his cheeks heat up, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong or embarrassing. He seemed to get that feeling around Pete a lot. He put his hands in his lap and shrugged. He wasn't really a drummer as he only really ever used it to help him to keep a beat. He'd just been so interested in those beats he couldn't resist.

“That's cool!” Pete said happily. “I don't know anything about drums, but Andy does. He'd the drummer in our band.” He raised his eyebrows and wiggled them at Patrick. “Maybe if we ask very nicely, he'll let us see them.”

Patrick would be lying if he said that thought didn't excite him at least a little bit. He'd barely been human a week and lost his voice, but it already felt like a year. Any musical outlet would have basically been worth his eyesight at this point.

Pete sang along to all the songs that played, giving each one of them a different accent while Patrick kept the beat. He was silently rolling in his seat, practically in tears by the time they pulled into the apartment complex. He couldn't help but wonder if this is what it would be like once he got his voice back. Driving around, pointing out different places of interest while they went, and one of them singing or tapping along to whatever was on the radio. It was a simple dream, but it was Patrick's dream.

Something in the parking lot caught Pete's eye, instantly ending his serenade mid-way through the song. Despite looking in the same direction as him, Patrick couldn't see anything that would cause the look of annoyance and... fear, worry?.. that had came over Pete's face.

He parked the van and tuned off the engine. “Why don't we go see Andy and Joe, huh?” he asked. He didn't even wait for Patrick's reply as he jumped out of the van and started to head towards the apartments across the parking lot.

Patrick struggled free of his seat belt and took off after Pete. He'd figured they would need to drive to where ever Andy and Joe were, but he realized that must not be the case as Pete started climbing the stairs.

_They live in the same place?_ Patrick thought. _Why do these two live together in the same apartment building and Pete lives alone?_

Their apartment was placed almost exactly like Pete's, just across the lot. Pete was already knocking on the door by the time Patrick had caught up to him. From the look on his face it wasn't the first time either.

The door swung open, revealing Joe in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white shirt. His curly hair was everywhere and he leveled a glare at Pete.

“Dude, why are you banging on my door this early?” he asked, although there was no real heat behind it. 

Pete reached behind him and grabbed Patrick' hand. Before Joe could say anything he pulled him inside. “It's after one in the afternoon, dude,” Pete said. “That's hardly early.”

Patrick watched as Joe shrugged at their entrance and shut the door. He scratched his head, bouncing his curls in the process. “Some people need more than four hours of sleep to survive, Pete.”

Pete merely grinned and sat down on their couch, slapping the seat next to him for Patrick. He took it while trying to take in as much of the room as he possibly could.

Their apartment wasn't dirty, not really, more like cluttered. There seemed to be too many belongings in one place, while Pete's had been all the belongings in the wrong places. There were multiple guitars in the living room, along with a drum set in the corner. Their TV was rather large with lots of cords underneath it, probably for all those video games Joe and Andy had talked about last night. Their walls were floor to ceiling posters for bands Patrick would probably never hear about anywhere else, and they had just as many CDs and records as Pete did. Their living room was clearly bigger than Pete's, but all of the apartments were the same size, so the space difference must have been in the bedrooms.

Pete glanced around the room. “Is Andy not here?” Pete asked, noticing their friend was no where in sight.

Joe sprawled into the chair next to them.”No, he went out in a run earlier and hasn't come back yet.” He yawned into his hand and finally looked at Patrick properly. “Damn, dude, you look nice when you're wearing real clothes,” he said, gesturing towards Patrick's new clothes. He hadn't been able to wait after buying them and had insisted on changing into an outfit before leaving the sore. Pete had been more than happy to wait for him.

He smiled shyly and gave a tiny head nod as thanks. As a siren the only thing he ever really got complimented on was his voice. It was nice to hear something else for once, even if it was only because of his clothes.

There was an awkward moment of silence before Joe asked if he wanted to play Mario Kart. He had no clue what that was, and he was sure that Joe could tell by the look on Patrick's face, but he agreed anyways, climbing into the floor in front of the TV with the other two. Both Joe and Pete helped him learn the controls and pick a character as well as a car. Joe and Pete both had favorites they liked to play as, Joe with Luigi and Yoshi and Pete with Donkey Kong and Bowser, and they picked the baby Mario and baby Luigi for Patrick to play with. He was sure that they were purposefully trying to make him fail, as the size of his car was easily half that of Pete's and a quart of Joe's.

The rounds went surprisingly quick and were actually kind of fun once Patrick learned how to stop getting stuck on walls. It sort of reminded him of the way he and Brendon used to race. He pushed the thought of home down though, knowing it would do no good to him then.

“Swear to God, Stump, if that's another blue shell I'm gonna lose it,” Joe said as Patrick picked up another box. Apparently, being in last meant you got a lot of good items, like exploding shells that attacked 1st place, which happened to be Joe.

Patrick grinned and sent it off.

“Dammit!” Joe yelled. Pete laughed his ass off. 

The next round was similar, except he didn't get as many blue shells because he wasn't in last place anymore. Neither Pete or Joe seemed to notice though, both of them way too caught up in trying to catch each other. The fight between the two of them and one red shell was all it took for Patrick glide into first and win.

Joe dropped the Game Cube controller and fell to the floor. “I give up. I've lost my touch when it comes to this game.” Patrick meanwhile punched the air in victory.

For Joe's sanity they decided to move on to Battles, where the objective of the game was to pop each others balloons. This also went frustratingly for Joe.

He leaned over until he was basically leaning against Patrick, causing him to lean into Pete. Being this close to Pete, smelling whatever spray it was he wore as well as his natural scent was nearly enough to drive Patrick insane. It was enough to drive him to distraction at least.

Joe made quick work of Patrick's balloons, as well as Pete's. He let out a victory “whoop” and fell backwards. Pete threw an arm around Patrick's shoulder's, locking him into a headlock while rubbing his knuckles roughly against his scalp.

“You were supposed to win, Stump! Be my good luck charm!” Pete said. He wrestled them until they were lying down next to Joe, who swatted at them.

“Hey, love birds, take your shit somewhere other than my floor,” he said. Pete laughed and pushed away from Patrick.

Patrick laid there for a moment, the warm feeling he got in his chest every time Pete touched him or laughed slowly fading. Why had he laughed when he pushed him away? Had it been the thought of being a “lovebird” with Patrick? Had that really seemed like such a terrible, laughable thought?

Before he could spiral much further down, Pete's hand appeared before his face. “Want to hear us play something?” he asked, using his other hand to point towards the guitars. “It'll probably sound weird without Andy for now, but it might prevent us from killing Joe.”

Patrick took his hand and was pulled to the couch. Joe, meanwhile, flipped Pete off but still rolled to his feet. “Forget it sounding weird because Andy's not here. It's going to sound weird because we lost our rhythm guitarist when we lost our singer,” Joe grumbled.

Whether Pete was ignoring him or actually didn't hear what he had said was irrelevant, because the result was the same. He messed around with one of the guitars and strapped it on. Joe did the same next to him.

The music soon started and Patrick was instantly enchanted by it. His eyes were practically glazed over as he stared and watched Pete and Joe play. It seemed like a well rehearsed song but still rough, probably due to their lack of drummer and whatever guitarist. As he listened he let Pete's lyrics come back to him, trying to find which ones were likely to go with it. Did Pete even use the lyrics he threw into the ocean? Or were they like this diary entries and supposed to be secret?

Patrick's face showed pure rapture as the song came to an end. He clapped excitedly and enthusiastically as he had no better way of showing his appreciation. Pete looked back at him, a blush of his own showing up against his darker skin.

“Um, thanks,” Pete said. They'd never had a reaction like that from anyone other than their own parents, and it was their job to show such enthusiasm, even if they had to fake it.

Stump didn't seem to be faking any of it though. His eyes were bright, the blue sparkling and mixing with the other colors in his eyes. His hands were clasped in front of him, as if he was praying for another song.

“Another?” Pete asked Joe, who shrugged, but he could tell that the younger man was also excited to have a new fan. Pete swore he'd do anything to keep Stump's huge grin and that idolized look on his face. He'd play until his fingers bled and all his strings broke if that's what it took.


	8. Your Heart's On Your Sleeve (Actually, It's In Your Eyes)

Andy returned a couple of hours later and agreed to help teach Patrick how to play the drums. Or at least a couple of drum parts to match up with what Pete and Joe were playing. He tried to hide it, but everyone could tell that he was excited to teach someone.

Patrick, for his part, was a very good student. He listened intently to everything Andy said, holding up his hands to slow him down or ask him to repeat himself. Whatever Andy would do, Patrick would imitate. It wasn't perfect, rough and choppy at times and completely hesitant at others, but it was still better than any of them had been expecting. Even Pete, who had watched him do something similar in the car.

“Have you ever had any drum lessons before?” Andy asked after a particularly difficult part.

Patrick's hair was sticking to his face with sweat, almost reaching his eyes. It felt gross, nothing like the water he was used to being submerged in. He was positive that he would never get used to sweating this way.

He shook his head, tapping the drum stick towards Andy and mouthing, _“Just you.”_ He was glad when Andy understood.

“That just means I'm a great teacher,” Andy said, smiling. He tapped his own sticks against the drum before leaving Patrick to his own devices.

He sat down next to Pete, who was watching Patrick tap away. His eyes hadn't left him since he'd started to play, returning the adoring look from earlier. Andy bumped his arm up against him. “You might wanna take those hearts out of your eyes before he notices them.”

Pete flinched, quickly looking at Andy. “What do you mean?” He hadn't thought he'd been looking any particular way, much less a way that involved hearts.

Andy shrugged. “I dunno. You've just got this look in your eyes.” He leaned forward, almost as if he was investigating his face, his eyes scrunched in concentration. “Pete,” he said carefully, knowing that he was broaching a sensitive topic. “I know he saved you. But you can't force anything, okay? Clearly, he's not in the best spot in his life and I just-”

“Andy,” Pete said. It wasn't harsh, it wasn't even a little sharp. “Do you really think that I would do that to him?” 

Of course Andy didn't. He knew Pete, had known him for years. But he also knew how he tended to act. He wore his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see and take and do with as they pleased. That, mixed with such a backwards person like Stump, who knew what would happen?

“Just make sure he gets a say in it too, okay?” Andy said.

Joe continued to strum along on his guitar, helping Patrick to set a beat. Patrick couldn't help but be utterly amazed by all the different sounds the guitar could make, especially when there were only so many places and positions for your fingers.

Apparently Joe had been playing for years, which certainly explained how good he was. He'd been in another band, which had basically exploded, when he met Pete and Andy he'd explained. At the time they'd also been a part of different bands that didn't work out, so now they are a band without a lead singer or a rhythm guitarist. Joe was a good singer, but, he explained, the songs didn't sound right coming from him which was helping to inspire their search. He joked about it, but Patrick could tell it annoyed him. Or maybe it made him nervous? Either way, it got to him.

They hung around for a few more hours, playing whatever they could think of. Andy and Patrick even had a “drum-off” if you could really call it that. Andy trounced him and it became more of a “drum together”experience. Joe kept joking that if Andy didn't watch it, they'd replace him with Stump, which earned him a drum stick to his head.

Eventually, Patrick tired himself out. It felt good to have some kind of alternative to singing, but nothing was ever going to actually beat it. Not matter how much it made him happy or Pete smile.

Which seemed to be something he was doing a lot of that day. He smiled so brightly and laughed so loudly that Patrick couldn't help but think of him as one of those firework from the festival. He could only pray that Pete wasn't planning on fading away as fast as they had.

Which was probably something that should seriously be discussed, once Patrick found a way to communicate that is. He knows what he saw that night, the makeshift anchor wrapped around Pete's ankles, dragging him down. There was no “misreading” that situation once you'd seen it up close. He wondered if Andy and Joe knew about it. They had to have at least an inkling, right?

Just thinking about the water made him hurt all over. His skin itched in a way similar to the sun burn covering his body and made his head pound. The drums around him were too loud and Pete and Joe's guitars were like shrieking banshees. He dropped his sticks onto the drum set, instantly regretting the noise. As quickly as he could, he stumbled over to the couch and rested his head in his hands, tugging on his hair. It barely relieved the bubbling pressure.

“Stump?” Pete asked, his eyes stuck to the younger human. He'd been alerted the second he'd dropped his sticks and had cut off Joe's playing as soon as he could. Andy glanced worriedly between Pete and Patrick, wondering if approaching would help.

Patrick wanted to reply, to smile and give a thumbs up to show he was okay so they wouldn't worry, but he couldn't. It felt as if a metal spike was being wedged into his skull and he might just die. He could hear a panicked gasping noise and realized, almost embarrassed, that it was him.

Pete approached slowly, gently running his fingers through with Patrick's until he could pry them safely from his hair. He held his hands together in his hands and whispered in a voice he hoped was soothing.

“Hey, you're okay, okay? Just breathe,” Pete said. He gently lifted Patrick's head up, trying to look in his eyes. Patrick could see the beautiful brown but couldn't stare right at him. He hadn't been this close since they were laying together on the beach.

“What happened?” Pete asked once Patrick had calmed down a step. Patrick shrugged, wary of moving his head any. Just as suddenly as it had all started it had ended. The only thing left was his uneven breathing and his shaking hands, which were still clasped in Pete's hands.

“When was the last time you ate?” Andy asked. Joe glanced at him curiously. “I mean, his hands are shaking pretty badly, it could be like blood sugar or something.” 

Pete turned his worried eyes back towards Patrick. “Do you have any problems with your blood sugar?” he asked. He rubbed his hands over Patrick's, as if the friction alone would stop it. Honestly, having Pete be that close to him and his face while holding his hands was doing nothing good for his shaking hands.

Patrick knew what had caused the tiny breakdown and knew that it had nothing to do with blood sugar. Unfortunately the real cause was a secret that he couldn't exactly share with them.

He shrugged and sagged into the couch. He knew it wasn't the answer any of them had been hoping for but it was the only one they would get. His eyes fell closed as he heard Joe get up and go into the kitchen, searching for something to give to Patrick.

“We did play through lunch,” Pete said quietly, almost to himself. A flash of guilt ran through Patrick as he listened to Pete beat himself up over a situation that he honestly had zero control over. Pete's hand disappeared from Patrick's for a moment, but reappeared once his weight flopped down onto the couch next to him.

He winced, afraid the pain would return, but it never did. If it was already this bad after only being human and not being able to sing for a week, he could only imagine what would happen to him after a month. If he lived that long.

Joe returned shortly with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with bananas and some kind of sugary drink. Patrick ate and drank slowly, despite Pete's worried hovering, and could feel himself return to normal slowly but surely.

“You guys are gonna have to remember to eat regularly,” Andy said, mainly directed at Pete. He knew his friend sometimes got too wrapped up in things to pay attention to important things like food. If he was really serious about having Stump move in, then he was going to have to be more aware than that. From the look on Pete's face, he understood the message.

Patrick waved away Andy's worry. “I'm fine, I'm fine,” he mouthed. It was clear that no one believed him.

Pete stood up and offered a hand down to Patrick. “Well, either way, we should probably head home,” he said. He smiled a huge smile at Patrick when he accepted his hand and let himself be pulled up. Once Patrick was on his feet Pete slung his arm around his shoulders and waved good-bye.

“Pete, wait,” Andy said. Pete stopped, turning Patrick back around as well. “You forgot this,” he said, holding up a plastic bag. He held it there for a minute, almost as if he was daring Pete to say something. Or maybe giving him the chance to say no.

Pete glanced between Patrick and the bag for a moment before taking it from him. Patrick knew Pete hadn't came in with a bag, which just made their whole exchange odd.

The short walk across the parking lot was nice. The sun was setting and there was a cool breeze blowing, allowing for a practically perfect temperature. All Patrick wanted to do was sit outside and enjoy the nice weather, but it was clear Pete had other ideas. He'd pulled Patrick across the lot and up the stairs, not pausing until they were inside the apartment.

Pete motioned for him to sit down on the couch while he went into the kitchen to start on dinner. He'd placed the bag on the coffee table in front of Patrick, clearly not thinking about it at all.

Patrick's curiosity was piqued though. He could hear Pete banging pots and pans together, signaling he was attempting to cook or something and would probably be busy for at least a few minutes.

He leaned forward and picked up the bag. Inside was a book, rather large and with a paperback cover. _American Sign Language for Beginners_ read the cover. So this was apparently what people expected him to know as he was “mute”. He thought about the almost guilty look on Pete's face as he'd taken the bag from Andy and wondered what it had meant. Did he feel bad for going behind Patrick's back, or did he feel embarrassed for Patrick, seeing as how he knew nothing about sign language? And what had the look been at the diner when he'd watched him sign pancake?

Either way, he wanted to reassure Pete. He'd been looking for a way to speak with anyone since he'd been stuck here and this was the best way he'd been offered so far.

He flipped through the book, not looking for anything in particular until he came to a particular phrase under the _Feelings and Relationships_ category. _I. Love. You._ Simple, barely even three movements. Point to yourself. Cross your arms over yourself, almost like a hug. Point to the person you were referring to. Simple, simple, simple.

It was the first bit of sing language he learned all by himself.

XXXX

Boiling water was probably the most time-consuming and boring thing he'd ever been forced to do for some food. Pete used to get bored and had been easily distracted when he had been young and cooked with his parents, which meant he'd somehow missed the extraordinarily long time it could take.

Having all this time unfortunately gave him time to think about earlier. The pain that had been so obvious on Stump's face had felt like a jab to his own heart. He knew that there had to be more to the story than just skipping lunch, but even so he was still terrified. Stump had gripped and pulled at his hair so hard at one point Pete had been positive that he was going to rip it all out. He hoped that one day Stump would feel comfortable enough to come to him and tell him what was wrong but that would require him to have some way to talk to him. At least a better way than their guessing games.

Which brought him to the “gift” Andy had bought. Apparently, while he had been out today he had taken the initiative to go out and buy a book on sign language after his work out. It was supposed to be a simple, beginners book that had been surprisingly difficult to find.

Andy had offered it to Pete while Joe and Patrick had been jamming, saying that it might come in handy. Pete had been thankful for the thought Andy had put into Stump sticking around, but the gift also made him uncomfortable. Stump had seemed at least interested in sign language at the diner but still. What if Stump had made the choice himself to not learn sign language, and having Pete offer to help him learn offended him? That was the last thing Pete wanted.

The water on the stove bubbled, threatening to bounce right over the edge. Pete sighed and dumped the noodles in, stirring them until they began to soften. He hoped spaghetti would be good enough for Stump. Not that he really seemed to be picky when it came to food. Being homeless had probably helped that along.

The door to the kitchen pushed open and in stepped Stump. He looked nervous for some reason, big blue eyes looking up at Pete and then glancing away. His head was tilted down, and he rubbed his hands together anxiously. The apprehension in his slumped shoulders was apparent.

“Hey, Stump,” Pete said. He tried to sound normal, hoping to ease the younger man's worries. “Dinner should be ready soon.”

He turned away, facing the stove again. A snort of air came from beside him and a movement of hands caught his attention.

“What's up?” he asked.

Stump looked like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. He took a huge breath of air and then rested his right hand on his chest. He then held up his first two fingers on each hand and tapped them together. Then his right hand made some movements Pete didn't understand. But he sort of recognized.

“What?” he asked. Stump did it again, this time less confident. His movements were less clear, his hands shaking.

Pete blinked. Did Stump just sign at him?

Stump's face fell faster as he watched for Pete's reaction. He reached behind him and pulled the book out from where it had been tucked into the top of his jeans in case he had needed it. He tossed it onto the counter next to Pete, waiting for Pete to pick it up.

Pete looked at it regretfully. Had the book upset Stump? He eventually picked up the book after some more prompting, turning to one of the first pages.

_Introductions:_ , it read, _Introducing yourself._

_Hi! My name is ______

On the next page was the ASL alphabet. And that's when it clicked what Stump was doing.

“Do it again. Slow!” Pete said, feeling giddy.

“ _My name is P-A-T-R-I-C-K,_ ” Stump signed.

Stump's name was Patrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact for you guys, I'm actually a junior in college who is minoring in ASL, which is why sign language keeps getting mentioned in this story, aside from the obvious reason of needing a form of communication. I'd also just like to say that while the sign language depicted here is actually sign language, it will more than likely heavily favor PSE in future uses, which is a form of sign language that uses English grammar rules. There are some different signs between PSE and ASL, but PSE is generally understood by ASL users and it is also generally easier for non-ASL signers to understand. I myself sign PSE better than ASL, as it follows the same order of my words as I would type them or speak them. I understand that labeling future conversations in this story as ASL might be inappropriate, but it is more commonly known than PSE, so it is the name I will stick with. I am not fluent in ASL or PSE. I am still a student but I have a passion for the language and I enjoy making it more common for people who might not be as aware of it. 
> 
> That was a lot to type, and I'm actually going to be surprised if you read all. As always, you guys are awesome readers and I can't wait for you guys to see where their story goes!


	9. Courting A Brown Eyed Boy

Learning sign language was difficult and slow going, but they were getting there. It was actually pretty cool that neither one of them knew how to “speak” sign language as it meant that it was something that they were learning together. Which led to some interesting mistakes and odd types of short cuts that probably wouldn't make sense to anyone else in the end.

Pete would sit next to Patrick for hours trying to learn what each sign was supposed to mean and how he needed to sign back to him in response. The book reassured them that having the “hearing” (or in this case “speaking”) person sign more often would lead to a better understanding all around. Joe and Andy would also occasionally pick up on a few things, but they mostly required Pete to help them out.

With only the beginner book to go off of though, Patrick was left finger spelling a lot of answers, which required a lot of focus and energy. Pete would often need to carry around a piece of paper or pull his phone out to type down what Patrick was trying to spell. Despite these things, it was still better than not being able to answer Pete at all.

There were still some questions that he refused to answer though, as they might give him away as something “other” or would at least make Pete even more curious.

“Have you always been homeless?” Pete asked, almost a week after the book exchange. His hands were raised as if he was going to sign it but had forgotten. He always intended to help Patrick learn, but his mouth tended to be faster than his fingers.

Before Patrick could reconsider it, he shook his head. He'd had a perfectly nice place of his own in his colony, and before that he and Brendon had lived together when they were younger. Until the pier, he never would have really thought about not having a home.

“So, you have a family?” Pete asked. His voice had taken on a tone Patrick wasn't exactly pleased to be hearing. It was much too curious, while trying and failing to give off the air of being nonchalant.

Patrick looked away from his sign book to actually look at Pete. He was flopped over in the chair across from Patrick, some kind of music magazine open in his lap. Patrick knew he wasn't reading it, as he'd been on the same page for the past twenty minutes. Pete was also purposefully not looking at Patrick.

Patrick considered his question for a moment. While Gabe, Travie, and Brendon weren't exactly blood related, they were part of the same colony as him, which sort of made them family. He shook his hand in a “kinda” way.

“What about friends?” Pete asked, dropping the air of 'not watching' Patrick.

He rolled his eyes. “ _Yes, I have friends,”_ he signed rather quickly. _I have_ statements were easy, especially when what you have is one of the first things the book teaches you.

Pete sat up, placing the magazine on the table. The air around them shifted, causing more than a bit of anxiety on Patrick's part. “Then where are they?” he asked.

 _“What?”_ Patrick asked.

“Where are they, Patrick?” Pete asked. “You've been living here for a week and yet no one's stopped by, and you haven't went to see anyone. Isn't there anyone who's noticed that you seem to be missing?”

Patrick dragging his thumb under his chin and then waved his hands around his face as if he were swatting bugs. “ _Don't worry.”_ He rubbed a hand over his chest. _“Please.”_

There were so many things that Pete wanted to say, Patrick could tell, but for once the rather loud man fell silent. He refused to press on, instead flopping back in his chair. “What do you want to do today?” he asked. It was about midday and Pete was still in his pajamas, which had led Patrick to assume they weren't going to do anything that day. They hadn't done anything in the past week really, nothing more than video games, learning sign language, and playing whatever songs they were willing to try and teach Patrick. Andy was a great teacher and had clearly enjoyed having someone to teach drums to.

Patrick shrugged. He'd just figured they'd do what they had done the day before.

Pete pouted. “C'mon Patrick, I wanna do something.” Patrick was angry at how happy he got every time Pete said his name. It was a sad level of happiness, one born of desperation.

“ _What?”_ he signed.

Pete sat there and thought for a moment. His eyes lit up as he suddenly raced back into his room. The sounds coming from his room didn't sound good, several crashes and bangs followed by some cursing.

When he returned a minute or so later he was holding two pairs of swim trunks, one of which he tossed at Patrick. They were a different pair than the ones he'd showed up in and they were definitely Pete's.

“Let's go swimming,” Pete said happily. “We can go to the beach, get out of the apartment for a while.”

He looked so happy and excited that Patrick felt like there was no way he could say no, even if he didn't really want to go. He missed the ocean immensely, but going there would just be another reminder that he was no longer from there.

The other reason he didn't want to go was Pete himself. It was probably dumb to be worried about it when Pete didn't seem to be, but he worried about what Pete's reaction to all the water would be. He tried to drown himself after all, he probably shouldn't be there.

 _“A-N-D-Y, J-O-E going?”_ Patrick signed. Maybe one of them could talk some sense into him.

Pete briefly looked disappointed. “Yeah, I can call them, too.” He dug around in the chair for his phone and dialed one of them. The sparkle in his eyes was briefly dulled but soon came back once he heard Joe's voice on the other end. “Hey, Joe!” You and Andy wanna go to the beach?” he paused. “I just figured Patrick and I would get out for a while and he wanted to know if you two wanted to come.”

Patrick didn't strictly like the way Pete had phrased the question. It made him feel as if _Pete_ was pushing the whole thing off on him, even though he knew that it probably wasn't the way he had meant it. Either way it seemed to work because all four of them were gathered into Joe's van about ten minutes later and headed to the beach.

Joe drove, claiming that since it was his van he should at least get to drive it. Pete and Andy had argued that point, but only briefly. Eventually Pete just cried, “Shotgun!” and jumped into the passenger's seat. Andy cursed, just a tiny bit frustrated, before rolling his eyes and ushering Patrick into the back seat.

Everyone had their own backpacks, aside from Patrick who was sharing with Pete, that is, which ended up being tossed into the floor in front of Patrick and Andy, almost crushing their feet. Patrick didn't know what was inside Joe or Andy's bags but he did know that Pete had packed a change of clothes and a couple of towels for both Pete and Patrick, as well as some snacks Patrick was sure Andy would disapprove of.

They drove past the beach were Patrick and Pete had met, the pier fading away in the distance. A puzzled look came over Patrick's face as he glanced at Andy, who had been peering at Pete out of the corner of his eye, his sunglasses nearly hiding the look. He caught Patrick looking at him and smiled.

“We're going to a different beach. Too many people there,” Andy said. If Pete noticed the lie he didn't say anything about it. A swell of appreciation came over Patrick as he thought about Andy and Joe also protecting Pete.

“Nah, Andy just wanted a better shot at seeing some mermaids or something,” Joe said. A smile spread across his face, knowing that it was bound to get to Andy. “Hard to do that if you're too busy staring at all the hot babes.”

Pete clutched his chest in mock concern. “I guess we better cover ourselves up, boys. Wouldn't want to distract Andy, now would we?”

Andy flipped Pete off, which just set off laughing fit from Pete.

Patrick, meanwhile, was having a slight meltdown. Where exactly were they going to go swimming at? Was it actually near any merfolk colonies? He knew the three people in the van with him would probably never intentionally hurt a merfolk, but if they knew about them then he was sure others, like the hunters probably knew too.

Andy continued on, as if the conversation had never taken place. “This place has a rockier beach, but the water's pretty calm, so it makes for the perfect place to swim.”

 _And it was also not where Pete tried to die,_ , Patrick could practically hear being tacked on at the end.

The drive wasn't much longer after that. As Joe pulled into a broken and nearly grass-overtaken parking lot Patrick caught a glimpse of the ocean. It was a short walk from where they were now, nearly hidden by the rocky coast.

They gathered up their bags and made the short trek down to the water. Andy had been telling the truth when he said the coast line was rockier than the pier's. There was almost no sand at all, instead being replace by water smoothed rocks, some as small as a finger nail with others the size of the van.

Andy swung his bag up onto one of the rocks that resembled the van, gesturing for Pete and Joe to do the same. They were talking about how good the sun felt and how this had been a great idea to get out of the house, Patrick could hear them, but he was hardly paying any attention.

Despite only being away from the ocean for a week, nearly two if you counted since he had last been a merman, it almost hurt him to look at it. Yet at the same time, it hurt even more to look away from it. It was as if the waves were calling to him, beckoning him to come home. Like it's own version of a siren's call.

“Stump!” 

Patrick flinched, hard, when he heard his nickname come from Joe's mouth, followed by an arm tossed around his shoulder. No matter how many times he spelled his name out to Joe, he still used the nickname Hayley had given to him.

“You okay, man? You're looking a little spacey,” he asked, gazing at Patrick. “Andy wants to know if you ate today.”

Patrick, trying to keep the fun atmosphere going, nodded and shoved Joe's arm off. Joe laughed, holding his hands up and retreated, mouthing something about feisty short people. Not that he was _too_ much taller than Patrick.

They got in the water soon after that, leaving their shirts and shoes and other belongings on the rock. Patrick almost wanted to cheer when Pete took his shirt off, showing off his dark skin and leaving very little to Patrick's imagination. It's not like it was the first time Patrick had ever seen Pete without his shirt on, in fact it seemed the man preferred not to wear one most of the time, but it was the first time Patrick would be similarly undressed. Not even having Joe or Andy there could ruin that excitement.

The water was remarkably calm as Andy had said it would be, which made it pretty easy to stand in. Patrick could tell, just by feeling it, that he would have probably hated the water had he been a merman. There were too many traces of boat oil and fuel feelings that clogged up merfolk's gills, giving them the equivalent of a human's stuffy nose or asthma, but as a human it was nearly undetectable. The water was also cloudy, as if it were constantly being stirred up, despite the fact that the water was still, which he knew from experience was not fun to try and swim in. He was reassured that despite Andy's hopes, they probably wouldn't see any merfolk around there.

While Patrick was content to float and gently swim around in the water, Pete was quickly bored. He splashed at Joe repeatedly, trying to draw him into whatever game it was he was wanting to play at the moment.

“C'mon, Marco Polo, dude!” Pete said. “I'll even be the one hunting you guys down.”

Joe narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed with something Pete had said. “I think you're kind of forgetting how that game is played,” he said. His eyes cut across to where Patrick was floating.

Pete's eyes followed his gaze. “Nah, Patrick can just smack the water if he needs to say 'Polo',” he said, as if he'd already considered it. And going by how fast he answered it, he might already have.

The rules were quickly explained to Patrick, avoid Pete at all costs, and when he called “Marco” they were to call “Polo” or splash in Patrick's case. Andy went ahead and firmly established how far out they were to go, as apparently Pete was prone to cheating while being “Polo” and hiding all the way out in deep water and going so far out no one could hear him.

Pete closed his eyes, spun around, and went under. Joe grabbed onto Patrick's arm and pulled him away, waving for him and Andy to spread out.

The game was fun, or at east it kept Pete entertained, for the most part. Patrick thought that him having to splash the water was unfair, as he had not only the sound but the motions from the waves going against him.

It also let him be unfairly targeted. Andy and Joe could at least attempt to have different accents but the splash was always Patrick.

He backed away from Pete, who was steadily approaching him. Joe was trying to make a couple of splashing noises, but Pete didn't fall for it. Joe shrugged around Pete at Patrick, silently communicating “you're screwed”.

Patrick continued to back up until he back right off of a ledge and dropped below water. His arms splashed as he went under, surprised by the sudden stinging in his eyes. Like instinct, his swimming skills came back, allowing him to dodge right by Pete and head towards where he had last seen Joe.

When he resurfaced he could hear the three of them calling out for him. Pete's eyes were open now, looking around.

“Patrick, where are you?” he called. Joe was now beside him, also shouting.

“Stump! Are you okay?”

Patrick raised both of his arms and slammed them down easily drawing their attention. All three of them spun around, confusion obvious on their face.

“How did you get over there?” Joe asked, glancing back and forth between where he was currently floating and where he had disappeared.

“Swam,” Patrick mouthed, moving his arms in front of him as if he was swimming under water again.

An uncomfortable silence enveloped them, everyone seeming to get lost in their thoughts. Andy glanced between everyone letting out a snort.

“Well, either way we won. You opened your eyes, Pete,” he said, his smile nearly splitting his face.

Pete groaned. “Aw, c'mon Andy! That's not fair,” he whined. They went back and forth for a minute, long enough for Joe to get bored.

“They're probably going to be at it for at least another five minutes,” he said. “So I'm gonna head to shore for a drink. You coming?”

While Patrick would honestly rather stay in the water and enjoy the ocean he'd missed so much, he figured he'd better go with Joe. Andy and Pete arguing was fine until they tried to drag you into it and make you pick a side.

Joe was already on shore and pulling himself up onto the rock they'd placed their belongings on when Patrick got there. He dug a water bottle out and tossed it down to Patrick, who somehow managed to catch it, despite the sun in his eyes.

He sat down among the smaller rocks, not daring to try and climb up the way Joe had, and leaned his back against the rock. Out in the distance he could see the argument had somehow escalated into a splash war, with Joe occasionally cheering them on.

Patrick placed his water bottle next to him, which ended up skittering down the rocks. He took in the different colors of the rocks, the grays, whites, blacks, and many shades of brown when an idea clicked into his brain. He might not know anything about how humans go about courting each other, but he did know a couple of things about merfolks and these rocks would literally be perfect.

He quickly began searching around, shifting rocks that were too dark or too light out of his way. He needed the exact shade of brown or this wouldn't be proper.

In merfolk culture there was a tradition. If you were looking to court someone you would find a natural material, whether it was a stone, fish scale, plant whatever and give it to you hopefully soon to be significant other. The only catch was that it had to be natural and had to match your love's fin color. The brighter the color, the harder it was to find items to match the color.

Since Pete didn't have a tail he'd settle for matching a rock to his eyes. Among all these rocks out here there had to be one that matched the brown perfectly. 

“What are you doing down there? Making a rock castle?” Joe asked from up above. He'd apparently turned away from the battle once he'd heard Patrick scrapping against the rocks.

Patrick shrugged. He was honestly a little bit embarrassed because of what he was doing for several reasons. One, finding the item you give to your love is something very deep and personal, and the person you give it to is usually the first to see it. Two, he was intensely aware that he was starting to court Pete, _officially_ , by giving him this. Everything up until that point would have just been a silly little crush. And three, he was also aware that he was now counting a (em>human. A male human who he assumed due to past relationships was straight. Pete wouldn't understand the significance of the rock, which wasn't fair to him or Patrick.

“They're coming in,” Joe said a few minutes later. About that time Patrick found the perfect rock, smooth from the tides washing over it, and the honest to goodness exact same color as Pete's eyes.

Patrick snatched it up and shoved it into the pocket of his swim trunks, silently thanking the human who had invented them.

Pete collapsed next to Patrick, ruining the stack of unworthy rocks he had going. He grinned sheepishly at Patrick. “Oops,” he said.

Patrick shrugged and signed, _alright,_ to let him know it was okay. Pete looked at him in concentration for a moment before understanding.

“Alright then,” he said out loud. Patrick liked when he did that, repeated what he'd thought Patrick had meant, ass if he was checking to make sure he got it right.

They sat there, watching as the ocean gently and almost silently drifted back and forth. The only real sound came from the birds in the sky and Andy and Joe above them, splitting some snack or other.

“So,” Pete said after a few moments. Patrick tore his eyes away from the view, taking in how close Pete was to his face. The rock in his pocket felt heavy as he thought about leaning forwards and placing a peck on Pete's lips. It might not break the spell but it would still be worth it.

“You really can swim. Like really fucking well,” he said. “Andy said that you were there one second and the next you were where Joe had been standing.”

Patrick thought back to the moment he had went under. It had been as if his old instincts of being a merman had just came back and, before he'd really made the choice at all, he'd just swam as quick as he'd been able to. He'd had no clue he'd gone so far or had been under long enough for them to start calling for him. He hadn't really thought much about it then.

Patrick waved his hand in a 'sort of' gesture, hoping Pete didn't need sign for that one. He couldn't swim as well as he'd been able to as a merman, but he could still do it pretty damn well apparently. 

A soft smile came over Pete's face. Patrick faintly caught a mumbled, “I knew it,” as Pete began shifting through rocks, looking anywhere but Patrick.

Patrick wondered if this had all been some kind of test from the beginning and whether or not he'd passed. Either way, Pete looked happy so he was happy.

A few more games of Marco Polo, with modified rules including but not limited to keeping Patrick above water (because he was too quick under it) and forcing Pete to tie a shirt around his eyes (because he peeked too many times), and they were headed home. Andy had raced Pete to the van for shotgun, threatening to beat him if he made him ride in the back again.

Sleep felt like a necessary thing to Patrick at the moment. In fact, he was sure he'd probably do something drastic like die if he didn't get some soon. The warm sun and exercise wore him out a bit more than he was used to.

Patrick was leaned up against the door in this seat by the time Pete crawled in next to him. He barely cracked an eye open ad Pete plopped next to him, talking a mile a minute.

Maybe Patrick was delusional or already half asleep and was working on dreams when he did it, but either way it happened. He dug into his pocket and held his hand out to Pete, who dutifully held his hand out. Patrick let the rock slip from his fingers into Pete's hand.

“What's this?” Pete asked inspecting the rock. His voice was low, as if he knew this was private and personal.

Patrick made the letter “y” with his hand and brought it back and forth between Pete and the rock. Then he pointed to Pete and his own eyes.

_“Like your eyes.”_

The last thing Patrick saw was Pete smiling softly, first at the rock and then him, signing, “ _Thank you._ ”


	10. Bad Ideas = Good Memories

After their successful trip to the beach, Andy decided that they should all get out more, earning a lot of grumblings from Joe. His complaints were ignored as Andy planned to take them all hiking up in the mountains a short drive away.

“Ever been to the mountains before?” Pete asked as they packed up the van. Andy had planned everything, from food to sunscreen to sleeping bags, which was fair enough, as Joe hadn't exactly wanted to go, Patrick had no clue how to pack anything, and Pete was definitely more trouble than he was help once he was released into a camping supply store.

Patrick shook his head, his nervous energy flitting around him like an annoying bug. He'd seen mountains on TV in Pete's apartment, but he'd never seen one in real life before. The thought of that much land rising that far into the sky both excited and disturbed him. Excitement because he would get to be up so high, plus he loved exploring on land, and disturbed because that much land had no right to reach that high in the sky.

Pete didn't seem to be too surprised by that. “Don't worry about it. Andy knows exactly what he's doing. Plus we won't be going very deep into the woods on the mountain anyway.” He leaned in close to Patrick, throwing an arm around his shoulders and butting their heads together like they were sharing a secret. “I think this is Andy's way of making sure Joe gets outside for a amount of time longer than it takes to walk to the mail box and back.”

Patrick smiled, pretending to agree even if he didn't. Maybe Joe did need to get out more too, but Patrick wasn't fooled. He pretty much knew that it had more to do with getting Pete out and keeping an eye on him.

Pete rode in the back with Patrick this time, allowing Joe to take the passengers seat while Andy drove. He say right next to Patrick, pointing out different things along the way. They left the city behind, trees replacing boardwalks and houses. After so many winding roads Patrick was sure he'd be sick, they pulled into a parking lot. The signs suggested it was for some kind of special park.

“There's the perfect trail for us over here,” Andy said, killing the engine. “It's not too steep, it's got the perfect view, and not too many people use it.”

Patrick sent a grateful look towards Andy. He hadn't exactly been so sure about this hiking thing, but it seemed that Andy had taken his walking abilities into account. He was getting better, in fact he hardly even stumbled anymore, but there were still some awkward and slow days.

They unloaded the van, each of them taking a bag with a sleeping bag attached to it. They were heavy and Patrick knew already that he was probably going to regret the trip.

Someone suddenly plopped something down on top of his head, nearly obscuring his view. He brushed the thing back and realized it was one of Pete's old baseball caps he'd had laying around the apartment.

“There you go!” he said, clearly proud of himself. “Hopefully that will help with the sun.”

Patrick could only blush, smile, and sign, “ _Thank you._ ”

The woods were honestly beautiful. Patrick wasn't sure he had ever seen so much green in his life. There were short trees, while some were so large it was impossible to see the top.

Joe, who was at least starting to get into it, fell back to walk right next to Patrick. “I used to climb trees like these when I was a kid,” he said. The smile on his face grew once he caught Patrick's expression. 

“ _What!?_ ” he signed. Neither Joe nor Andy knew sign language all that well (not that Pete or Patrick did either) but he either guessed the meaning, which wasn't hard to do, or just assumed from the look on Patrick's face.

“Oh yeah. I'm sure Andy and Pete did too,” he said.

Patrick whirled around on the other two members of their group. Pete, who was now walking next to Andy since Joe had fallen back with Patrick, gave a helpless shrug.

“Yup, I did. Jumped out of most of them in the end, too It was usually too hard to climb down” Pete said. 

Patrick was horrified. Why on earth would anyone want to climb a tree for fun much less jump out of it? He was slowly beginning to realize he had at least a tiny fear of heights. The fact that humans did all these kinds of things without the safety net of water flowing around them, instead just having useless air to catch them, just proved how truly insane they were.

“I take it you've never climbed any trees then?” Joe asked. Patrick could see through Joe's friendly tone and recognize the fishing that was going on underneath. This had also been going on a lot lately, much to Patrick's annoyance. Now that they all had a way to communicate, Joe had basically not stopped asking questions. Pete had backed off after Patrick had made it clear that he wasn't going to tell anyone anything he didn't want to, while Andy seemed content to just let Patrick be and instead hound Pete about anything he wanted to know.

Patrick shook his head, searching for an answer that wasn't too far from the truth. He quickly signed “ _scared_ ” and then mimed something being tall, as he hadn't learned the sign for heights yet, if there even was one. He doubted his book would have it anyways.

Hoping to avoid anymore awkward questions, he hurried up to walk alongside Andy. His sunglasses concealed his eyes, yet Patrick could still feel his eyes on him as he turned and watched him. He relaxed when Andy looked back at the trail. Pete and Joe carried on a conversation behind them, probably about whether a fall from a certain height would break just their feet or their whole leg, if the bits and pieces Patrick could pick up on was anything to go by.

It was peaceful walking next to Andy. He wasn't usually much of a talker on normal occasions, so adding in the fact that he would have to carry most of a conversation with Patrick led him to stay silent. Patrick was fine with it, as it allowed him to take in the scenery a bit better.

The trees formed a canopy over the trail, allowing very little sunshine to come through. The bit that did filtered down greenly, almost like the sunlight in water. It made Patrick feel at home, even though the dirt and rock path easily reminded him he wasn't.

Up ahead on the path was an opening in the trees. A set of old wooden picnic tables that had definitely seen better days set off to the side. Andy pointed to them. “We can stop up there for a break for lunch.”

It wasn't long before they had spread out their lunches, quietly talking around the food. Patrick had intended to sit next to Andy, but Pete had patted the seat next him and he'd nearly tripped over himself to get there in time.

“Yeah,” Pete said around half of a sandwich shoved in his mouth. “I've got a couple to probably meet up with once we get back. They're not great, but they might just do the trick, you know?”

Patrick tore his eyes away from a group of cute, furry creatures he thought might be called squirrels to focus on what Pete was saying.

“It might just be easier to find a singer and teach him guitar at this rate,” Joe said, frustration clear in his voice. It seemed like they kept finding people who could do one and not the other, which was wearing thin. “If Stump is anything to go by, we're pretty good teachers.”

“Yeah, Andy did teach him how to play a mean drum,” Pete agreed, bumping shoulders with Patrick.

“Well yeah,” Joe said, but was silenced by the glare coming from Patrick. Thankfully no one else seemed to notice.

Lunch ended shortly after that. Pete and Joe chased after each other, trying to pick the sturdiest looking tree. Andy, who was checking where they were on a real, paper map, warned them that if one of them got hurt he wasn't going to carry them down the mountain. Neither one of them took his threat very seriously.

A smile was glued on Patrick's face. The weather was perfect, everyone was happy. That should have been his first hint that everything was going to go wrong.

It started as he watched Pete and Joe fight over who got to go up first. The scene felt so familiar, as if he were Travie or Gabe and watching him and Brendon argue. That brief though of the ocean and the people who lived in it was enough to start the pain.

This time it was slow, building up behind his eyes until they felt like they might pop out. His stomach was churning, worse than any ship in any storm.

He stood up, shaking but successful. Andy cast a curious look at him. “Where are you going?” he asked, but Patrick could tell it wasn't the one he wanted to ask. The ' _are you okay?_ ' and ' _what's wrong?_ ' ran deep underneath.

He signed “ _walk around_ ” hoping it would be enough and that Andy would understand.

Apparently he did, because he nodded. “Okay. Just don't go too far. We don't wanna lose you.”

Patrick felt like there might be something a little ironic to that sentence. He agreed and then shuffled away as fast as he could, going down the trail a little ways before cutting into the trees. He'd barely made it a few feet in before he crumpled to the ground.

The pain in his skull had increased so much he was sure a spear had erupted from his brain. His stomach cramped so hard he puked, throwing up everything he'd ate that day.

It didn't seem to be enough though. His insides were squeezing as if they were shrinking and shriveling, drying up in the desert sun. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead and dripping to the ground. He wondered if this was what it was like to be drained dry.

He couldn't tell if the pain was actually worse or if it was just because he was alone now. He literally ached to have Pete's soothing fingers in his hair again.

Time felt strange, distorted. It was impossible to tell if he had been laying in the dirt for a minute or an hour. His joints protested moving as he sat up but at least all his organs felt like they were where they should be, if a little shook up.

He scooted back, dragging his ass across the dirty ground. He was sure if he say there any longer the smell of his own vomit would do him in. His legs hated him, but they held out until he reached a fallen log to sit on, perfectly distanced to keep whatever the hell had happened out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

“Patrick!” Pete's panicked voice called out. It seemed to be becoming a habit of his to panic Pete. Shortly after, he burst from the bushes, his brown eyes landing on Patrick a second later.

“Oh God, there you are,” he said. He sprinted to where Patrick was sitting, taking in his disheveled and sickly appearance. “Are you okay? What's wrong?” The concern rolling off of him was so strong Patrick felt like he was drowning in it.

“ _I fell_ ,” Patrick signed. There was no way he could actually tell Pete what had happened. There was too much behind all of that for him to even begin trying to explain any of it.

The worry didn't disappear from Pete's face like Patrick had hoped it would though. If anything it got stronger. 

“Patrick, we've been looking for you for over ten minutes now. And Andy says you were gone for about ten before that.” Pete's eyes scanned Patrick's hair line while a rogue hand wandered up to brush at his hair, knocking his hat to the ground. “Did you hit your head when you fell? Why didn't you try and answer us?”

Patrick opened his eyes, startled that he hadn't even noticed that he'd closed them. Pete's calloused hand felt so good in his hair that he wished he'd lost twenty minutes doing this. It was like soothing, cool water and soft sheets meeting a scored desert and barbed wire.

Apparently he took too long to answer for Pete's liking. “God, you did hit your head, didn't you? Shit, we should probably get your head checked, “Pete said, going a mile a minute. He tore his eyes away from Patrick for a few moments, glancing around to see if Andy or Joe had found them yet.

Patrick reached up and wrapped his fingers around Pete's. “ _I'm fine,_ ” he signed. “ _My head's okay._ ” He stared Pete right in the eye, even though it took a bit of effort. His drifty dream world seemed to be way too close for him to put much attention into anything at the moment.

“Patrick,” Pete said, then paused. It was easy to tell that he was trying to figure out how to continue his sentence and all his ideas were falling flat. His eyes searched Patrick's before pulling away to look around the area.

“You sure you're alright?” Pete asked. “Did you eat enough at lunch?” 

Patrick nodded even though it was pointless. Pete knew he'd ate the same thing Andy had, as he'd rather taken a liking to Andy's vegan meals. Or maybe he had just started looking up to Andy because of how he respected the merfolk when he talked about them. Either way, they both knew this wasn't from skipping lunch or even potentially food poisoning.

“Right,” Pete said. “I'm just gonna go and tell the guys that we're going home. It might be the best thing for you.”

Pete stood up but Patrick was quicker. He jumped up and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back to his level. “ _No_ ,” he signed. “ _Want stay_.”

Pete signed, already expecting a fight because nothing ever seemed to be easy with Patrick. “If you're not feeling okay-”

“ _Fine_ ,” Patrick signed quickly. “ _Please? Never C-A-M-P-E-D,_ ” he spelled out, not knowing how to sign it.

Pete resisted the urge to point out how Patrick had previously been practically living camping, but thought better of it. He wasn't trying to make Patrick mad or upset him or anything, but he did think that he needed to be checked out or something.

“ _Please?_ ” Patrick signed again.

Pete sighed, knowing he'd been beaten. It had never been much of a fight anyways. “Aright, fine. But we're only staying for one night,” he said, hoping he sounded a hell of a lot more stern and serious than he felt. Hell, Patrick could have turned those big blue eyes on him and asked if they could live in the woods forever and he probably would have started looking up how to build a cabin for them to live in. “If you start to feel sick again, just let me know and we'll get out of here, okay?”

Patrick nodded, even though there was no way he was actually agreeing to that. Despite the fact that the mountain scared him, it also fascinated him. If he couldn't make Pete fall in love with him and allow him to become a full-time human, then this might be his only chance to truly see the mountains. He'd be damned if he was going to give that up. He was going to enjoy every single human thing he possibly could before he'd admit defeat, possibly in more ways than one.

This camping trip was either going to be the best idea ever or the worst idea ever. Patrick just wished he could tell which direction it was going now.


	11. Wishes About Kisses From Bottles And Stars

Once they started walking it became obvious to Patrick that he'd made a mistake to stay. His hands were shaking and the world felt light again. He fought against it though, refusing to be the reason their awesome trip was cut short.

“Here,” Pete said, taking Patrick's hand into his own. He helped Patrick balance over a log, still holding his hand even after he was past it. There was no way he couldn't feel Patrick's shaking hands, but Pete thankfully said nothing. If his eyes sent more worried looks Patrick's way than usual, well, Patrick ignored it.

“There you guys are,” Joe said as soon as they stepped back onto the path. His voice must have startled Pete as much as it did Patrick, because Pete jumped and dropped Patrick's hand. Joe raised an eyebrow at them. “Everything alright?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete said. “Everything's fine. Patrick just went a little off of the trail and got lost.”

Patrick sent a glare his way. While he was glad Pete hadn't mentioned the state he'd found him in, he still didn't much appreciate his excuse. He'd hardly left the path, much less enough to get lost. He really didn't want either Andy or Joe to regret bringing him along.

“Shit, dude that sucks,” Joe said. “You might wanna stay close or something.” There was more than a hint of concern and also disbelief in his voice but at leas the chose to drop it. Though this was more than likely influenced by the look Pete was currently giving him.

Three hours later and they had reached the spot Andy had mentioned was perfect for camping. It was a small area near a cliff where the trees had thinned out, leaving a thin canopy over most of the opening. Pete once again grabbed Patrick's hand and marched him towards the cliff.

Patrick's stomach was already doing flips from Pete grabbing his hand. Adding the terrifying drop straight down a mountain made him feel like his heart might stop and his stomach might just come out through his mouth.

“Look at it, Patrick,” Pete said so earnestly that Patrick couldn't resist.

It really was beautiful. Directly below them were trees that were that incredible green color Patrick was beginning to love so much, and hills that rose and fell in confusing patterns. Then, off in the distance so far he almost confused it with the sky was the ocean.

Patrick mouthed, _“Wow,”_ over and over again, hoping that this wouldn't be the last time he saw a sight like this. And definitely hoping that he'd get to see it again with Pete. Not even Patrick's questionable eyesight could ruin a view like this.

The first order of business now that they'd reached the camp site was to pitch the tent. Inside one of the bags Andy had been carrying was a tent that, while small, would fit all four of them, if a bit snugly. Patrick was impressed by the item, and faintly wondered why they weren't used more by homeless people on the beach. He decided to ask Pete later if they could get them one.

It quickly became obvious that Joe and Patrick were not going to be very helpful when it came to putting the tent together. Patrick had never seen one before and clearly had no clue where to even start, and Joe kept trying to goad everyone into sword fighting with one of the metal supports and nearly skewered Andy when he refused to fight back.

Before anyone could die or absolutely lose their mind, Pete sent Joe and Patrick to go and gather firewood, rocks for the fire pit, and sticks specifically chosen to be s'mores cookers. 

Joe happily agreed, the thought of s'mores being a heavy motivator. Patrick wasn't sure what a s'more was, but it must be good if Joe was excited for it.

They gathered an arm load of rather large sticks, which Joe explained would be firewood. Apparently there were certain rules to what kind of sticks you could use for a project like this and Joe was only allowing the best. They had to be large enough that they would last a while in the fire, dry enough they would light and stay lit, but not so dry that they would instantly go up in flames the second they hit the fire.

“So,” Joe said. They'd been hunting for several minutes now, nearly done with the firewood and almost ready to move onto either the rocks or s'mores sticks. Patrick turned to look at him, letting him know that he had his full attention.

“Do you like it here?” he asked.

Patrick made a show of looking around while nodding and signed, _“Pretty.”_ He wasn't sure if Joe would understand the sign or not but he was at least going to give him the benefit of a doubt.

Joe scrunched his brows together. “No, Stump, I meant do you like living with Pete? Like living here in general?”

Oh, well. The answer was easy, of course Patrick loved living with Pete. He would have loved living with Pete even if he wasn't already in love with him. He loved the fact that Pete was such a creative person with his words and that his lyrics showed more of himself than he probably cared to admit. Despite his silent grumblings, Patrick loved that Pete would come in almost every morning, or afternoon as Patrick wasn't much of a morning person, to wake him up for breakfast. He loved that while Pete was about as helpless as Patrick in the kitchen, he still tried. He loved how he stuck his tongue out when he got really into Mario Kart or how intense he got when he was practicing a new part on his bass. He loved that when Pete had been up for far too long because of his insomnia he would come and find Patrick, and the two of them would lay around and watch a movie together until Pete was absolutely too tired to stay awake so Patrick would just cover him up and sleep on the couch too, just in case Pete needed him.

But Pete wasn't the only thing he loved. He love hanging out with Andy and Joe and learning all he could about music from them. He loved that Joe was so relaxed and acted like Patrick's lazy brother, but he had proved to be fiercely protective if that night Pete almost died was anything to go by. He loved that Joe didn't seem to mind Patrick's hovering when it came to his guitar or video games and was more than happy to teach him how to play both. He'd even been giving him secret lessons on the guitar when Pete and Andy weren't around just so he could impress Pete with his playing skills.

He loved that Andy was so strict in his beliefs, but he wasn't going to nitpick Joe, Pete, or Patrick for theirs. He loved that Andy looked as if he could end someone with a single punch, yet he was also the one who was always making sure Patrick was eating properly. Andy was the one who more often than not was making the meals, or at least giving them the recipes, too. Andy also let him borrow some of his more “nerdy” movies and shows for Pete and Patrick's movie marathons, claiming that Patrick had to watch classics like Star Wars and Lord of the Rings and that Pete's own copies weren't as good because they didn't have all the bonus features that Andy's did. He loved that Andy was so quiet, yet when he was around the three of them he was a little more open. He felt like the four of them were special somehow.

_“I love it,”_ he signed. Joe did understand that sign, Patrick could tell.

“That's good,” Joe said, nodding his head. “Because I think Pete really loves having you around, too,” Joe was no longer making eye contact, instead hiding behind his curly hair. Patrick could tell, even so, that he was looking down at the ground anyways.

Patrick would be lying if he said the thought of Pete enjoying him being there wasn't a pleasant one. The fact that Pete must be enjoying it enough that one of his oldest friends could even see it just made it better. It made him feel as though he might not be wasting his time on all of this.

A smile spread across his face that he couldn't entirely wipe off. He knew he must look like an idiot to Joe, who seemed to be watching him from the corner of his eyes, but he couldn't help it. He missed home, but he was trying to make a new one and was having some semblance of success.

By the time they got back the tent was nearly complete. Pete was halfway inside, spreading some of the sleeping bags out, while Andy was hammering in the final stake and checking the lines.

Patrick walked up behind Pete, put his foot on his ass and pushed him forward. His talk with Joe had reinvigorated him and was definitely bringing out his more playful side that had been absolutely absent since he got sick earlier.

“What the fuck, Joe?” Pete asked, laughing as he pushed himself back up. He turned around to see Patrick standing there smiling and an even bigger smile overtook Pete's face.

_“Wrong,”_ Patrick signed.

Pete laughed. “Yeah, I see that.” He climbed fully out of the tent and stood eye level with Patrick. “You know what else I see?” Patrick shook his head. “I see someone who's gonna eat some dirt.” A second later Pete tackled Patrick, wrestling him to the ground and getting him in a headlock. He rubbed his knuckles against Patrick's scalp, knocking his hat clear off of his head and shouted, “This is what you get!”

Andy was currently side-eyeing them. “If you idiots knock this tent down, you _will_ have to put it back up.” His voice was serious, but there was also a smile on his face.

Joe nudged them with his feet. “Move that way, we're gonna put the fire here.”

Pete willingly dragged Patrick along with him, much to Patrick's protest. He slapped at Pete's arm that was wrapped around his neck and when that didn't work he began slapping the ground.

“I think he just counted himself out,” Joe observed. He was placing rocks in a circle with Andy, trying to get the perfect size for the pit.

Pete leaned around to get a better view of Patrick's face. “Is that true?” Patrick nodded. “Alright. One more for the road then,” he said. He scrubbed his fist against Patrick's scalp one more time and then let him go.

Patrick clamped his hands over his hair and tried to wrestle it back into place before pulling his hat back into place. He glared at Pete the entire time with the meanest look he could possibly muster.

Pete just laughed. “Patrick, you look like an angry kitten,” he said. And he was right. Any time Patrick tried to look angry it came out more cute than anything, much to Patrick's annoyance.

By the time everything was done the sun was going down and the stars were coming out. Pete let Patrick borrow a hoodie from him, one that was purple with other odd designs on it, which Patrick enjoyed. It was lightweight but warm and smelled so strongly of Pete that Patrick never wanted to take it of.

“S'mores time!” Joe declared once everyone had finished eating dinner. He rummaged through Andy's bag, proudly pulling free a bag of white puffs, several chocolate bars, and a box of graham crackers.

“These aren't easy to get, Stump,” Joe teased, shaking the marshmallows at Patrick. “You're lucky Andy's sharing them with you.”

Patrick eyes the bag curiously. He turned to look at Pete, who easily read the confusion on his face.

“Apparently vegan marshmallows can be difficult to find,” Pete said. “So Andy tends to horde them all to himself.”

Andy easily jerked the bag from Joe's hand. “You're all lucky I'm sharing with you. And that I agree it's not really camping without a few s'mores.”

Pete grabbed one of the sticks and poked a marshmallow at one end. “See?” he asked Patrick. He made sure he was watching closely before going on. “You've gotta get it at the very end so you don't burn yourself, but also make sure it's on the stick good enough so it doesn't fall off.” He bounced the stick a couple of times, testing the marshmallow's grip.

“Then, you stick it into the fire like this.” Pete shoved the stick in towards the center of the fire. “Make sure you turn it so it doesn't burn.” He pulled it out after a few seconds, blowing out the small flame that clung to it.

“Now, grab two crackers, yes like that,” he said, directly Patrick, “and slap a slice of chocolate in there. Good. Now I'm going to put this right on top here, you close that piece over the top and _voilà!_ A perfectly fine s'more!” Pete said proudly.

Patrick looked at the gooey mess stuck to his fingers and wondered what he should do now. The marshmallow and chocolate were both either melting or melted and were running down his hand.

“C'mon dude, eat it!” Joe said. He already had half of one shoved into his mouth. “It's good, I swear it is!” 

Patrick glanced at Pete, who was making his own, for reassurance. “You'll love them, I swear,” he said.

Patrick tried to take a tiny bite but half of the cracker crumbled and fell apart into his mouth. He was quick to shove the rest in his mouth to avoid anymore embarrassment. Thankfully Joe, Pete, and Andy just laughed but didn't seem to really judge him for it.

The s'more was really chewy and kind of too sweet for his teeth, but he enjoyed it. The smile on his face grew as he nodded enthusiastically, much to everyone's amusement. 

“I probably should have bought a bigger bag,” Andy joked. He say down next to Patrick to help him spear his marshmallow. He made sure he turned it when he should to get the perfectly toasted effect.

They split the bag between the four of them, soon finishing it off. There were still a few pieces of chocolate left that Pete was snacking on while Joe told scary stories. Apparently scary stories were also traditional to humans on camping trips, and Joe refused to be the one who broke that tradition.

Patrick was positive that the scary stories Joe told were also traditional, old time stories all humans probably knew if Andy and Pete's reactions were anything to go by, but Patrick still loved them. They were different than the stories merfolk passed down, which had more to do with hunters, fishermen, or perhaps larger, violent types of fish. These stories focused on ghosts and the dead coming back to life and haunting things. Supernatural beings. Patrick found it funny that merfolk were afraid of humans while humans were more afraid of something that didn't even exist. Very telling.

They took turns telling stories around the campfire. Joe told several stories about ghosts, which were long and detailed and perfectly plotted. Andy's stories were short but always had a plot twist that worked amazingly well. Pete's stories were a little more zany, usually involving zombie's, which were acted out by Patrick. His main role was to do whatever Pete said, whether it was walk around like a zombie or eat Joe's hair like he was trying to get at his brains. They couldn't get through half of their stories because they were laughing so hard.

After several rounds of stories Joe began to yawn. “I'm dead,” he said. He stretched his arms high above his head and groaned. “I think I'm going to turn in. Night you guys!”

Andy followed soon after him, also telling them goodnight. Soon it was just Pete and Patrick, sitting around the fire, finishing off the last of the chocolate together.

“You wanna go to bed?” Pete asked. Patrick looked at him, took in Pete's wide awake form and shook his head. He knew from experience that if he went to bed now, Pete would sit out here by himself, probably all night long, and not get any sleep. At least if Patrick was there he wouldn't be alone. Which was something Patrick never wanted Pete to be.

Plus, Patrick would be lying if he said he wanted to go to bed. Maybe it was all the sugar or maybe it was just the excitement from being in a new place or the stories they had been sharing, but either way he was too jacked up to sleep. He felt tired, certainly, but any sleep he gained now would be restless and useless.

_“Stay here?”_ he mouthed. Pete squinted for a moment before understanding and nodded his head.

“Yeah, yeah we can stay here,” Pete said. He gave Patrick a small, shy smile, which Patrick returned.

Pete's smile grew, and he flopped onto his back, spreading his arms out as far as he could. This camping trip had truly been one of Andy's finest moments since he'd met him.

“Wow,” Pete said softly. “The stars look amazing up here.”

Patrick followed his gaze, looking up towards the sky and tipping backwards onto the grass himself. His head was inches from Pete's arm, just shy from making this a cuddle or having Pete hold him.

_“Wow,”_ he mouthed as well. He did have to admit that the stars looked beautiful that night. Living underwater made it kind of hard to always appreciate things like this, as well as his terrible eyes sight, which made it hard to see things so far away. Not even the beach had a view like this, due to some light pollution from the city nearby. 

“Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight,” Pete began. Patrick turned to look at him, creasing his brows in confusion. Pete was staring up, straight ahead. “I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.” His eyes closed and he mumbled under his breath where even Patrick couldn't hear, despite being this close. 

When he opened his eyes he looked towards Patrick, taking in his obviously confused face. Even in the low light Patrick could see a faint blush spreading across his dark skin.

“Have you never done that before?” he asked. “Wish on a star?”

Patrick shook his head. Humans were definitely strange creatures if they thought that wishing on things like stars would help them get what they wanted. Then again, he was the one who got his wish from a bottle in the bottom of the ocean.

_“Far,”_ he signed. _“Can't see.”_

Pete frowned and turned his head back to the sky. “You do have bad eyes, don't you?”

Patrick wasn't sure what he should say to that. It was true that he'd never had the best eyes in the world, even before he was turned into a human, but he didn't want Pete to pity him anymore than he already did. Patrick was sure he must, considering how Patrick couldn't talk, write, cook, or really do much for himself in this new world.

Instead he settled for a shrug.

“Hang on,” Pete said. It was as though he had been struck by an idea, which instantly set his feet moving. He was steadfastly refusing to get up, honestly enjoying his sprawl with Patrick.

Somehow he managed to hook his foot on Andy's bag and drag it closer up to them. The zipper caught as he pried it open and began to dig through it.

His hands wrapped around something inside, drawing an “Ah, ha!” from him. From the bag he pulled a pair of glasses that Patrick sometimes saw Andy wear and slid them onto his face.

“How does that look?” Pete asked.

Patrick blinked owlishly. Pete had to admit that Patrick's big blue eyes had nearly tripled in size from the magnification, which did nothing to curb the feelings Pete was slightly unwilling to admit he was beginning to have. It would make Pete feel like he was taking advantage of Patrick if he tried anything.

_“Whoa,”_ Patrick mouthed, looking directly up at the stars, missing the amazed look Pete was giving him. He'd never seen the stars this clearly before. They'd still been beautiful, even when he couldn't see them properly before, but now they were gorgeous. What were once far off, tiny blurs of twinkling lights were now well defined orbs that Patrick could almost understand why humans would wish on them.

The glasses weren't the perfect fit or perfectly made for his eyes but they were good enough. He rolled around, looking towards the trees in the distance and their little camp, taking in all the individual leaves on the trees and rocks and bumps on the ground.

He rolled back on to his other side, nearly colliding his face into Pete's. Somehow during Pete's struggle with the backpack he'd scooted down until he and Patrick were on the same level.

Patrick took in Pete's face, the blush that was still there and growing, the small amount of stubble that was popping up on his face, and just exactly how close his chapped lips were.

Patrick slid his eyes closed, causing Pete to panic for a moment. Was Patrick expecting him to kiss him? Right then? His heart beat sped up until he was sure it could outpace a jet as he sat there frozen, just staring at Patrick.

Then Patrick began to mouth something. _“Starlight, star bright,”_ he mouthed. He sat there, still stunned and unsure what he should do as Patrick finished mouthing the rest. He went still when he got to the wish part, not allowing Pete to know his wish, just like Pete had done earlier.

If bottles can grant wishes, then so could stars. 

Pete waited a few moments allowing him to finish his wish. Once Patrick's eyes slid back open he decided to ask him about it.

“Do you think you'll get your wish?” Pete asked.

Patrick's face took on a mischievous look, his grin nearly taking up half of his face. He shrugged.

Pete returned the look. “Well I hope it does.”

They spent the rest of the night laying side by side, finally falling asleep as the sun came up, splitting a sleeping bag between the two of them. A couple of hours later Joe and Andy stumbled out of the tent. Joe grinned and took pictures on his phone, while Andy also smiled and shushed him.

“C'mon,” Andy said. “Let's give the lovebirds a little while longer.” And so they did.


	12. PB and J's Help Keep Depression Away

The first thing Patrick became aware of when he woke up were the birds chirping loudly. The second thing was Joe bitching about the birds. The third was Andy, bitching about Joe's bitching.

Patrick sighed as he attempted to roll over, only to realize there was something weighing him down and holding him in place. He squinted his eyes open, only to realize he was on his side, his face pressed up against Pete's chest. Pete's arms were wrapped around Patrick, keeping him close.

Patrick was torn between wanting to push away from Pete or just go back to sleep. He was afraid of what Pete might say if he woke up with Patrick like this. Not to mention Joe and Andy were already awake and moving about which meant that they could clearly see the two of them laying there together. But honestly Pete's arms felt so perfect around his, not to mention the amazing way he smelled laying this close, that the last the thing he wanted to do was ruin the moment.

“Joe, if you don't shut up you're going to wake them up,” Andy said.

Without even looking Patrick could tell the look of annoyance he knew was coming over Joe's face. “Me?! What about those damn birds?”

“Joe!” Andy said. His voice was as loud as Patrick had ever heard it before, which still wasn't very loud. “I'm being serious. Haven't you noticed how he hasn't been sleeping too well lately? I just want him to get all the sleep he possibly can.”

“Then you guys should stop yelling,” Pete said. Suddenly he shifted, pulling Patrick closer to him before he seemed to realize what he was doing. Patrick blinked, pretending to wake up. “I tend to get kind of clingy in my sleep.”

Joe and Andy also looked pretty sheepish when Patrick rolled over. “Sorry,” Andy said. He nudged Joe in the ribs, prompting him to say something.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, quickly. “These birds are just driving me insane.”

Pete laughed and sat up. “I think we better eat and head home before Joe loses it on some birds.”

Andy and Joe agreed, going back to preparing breakfast as they had been doing before Joe had lost it with the birds.

Pete meanwhile turned his attention back to Patrick, his smile expanding and another laugh bubbling up. “Wow!” he said. “You must have slept great!”

Patrick scrunched his eyebrows, not really understanding. “You're hair is a mess and you've got a huge trail of dried spit down your face,” he said, pointing to a spot next to Patrick's face.

He suddenly wished the mountains would crack open and swallow him whole. Nothing ruined a perfectly fine cuddle like acknowledging the fact that the person you'd been cuddling with almost drowned in their own drool. Yeah, Patrick was sure that would win Pete over.

He scrubbed at his cheek roughly, which again set off Pete in a laughing fit.

“C'mon Trick,” Pete said. “Let's get ready to go home.”

XXXX

A couple of days after their camping trip they all loaded up into Joe's van again to drive over to a space the boys sometimes rented out for practice. Their neighbors were obviously not their biggest fans, as Patrick had noticed, and would often bang on their ceilings, yelling for them to shut up. They could usually get away with playing during the day while everyone was at work, but with the revolving door of people they would be having they figured their practice area would be better.

“So what do you think of the guys coming in today?” Joe asked Pete. So far Pete had been the only one to talk to any of them, and even then most of those conversations had been over the phone.

Pete pulled a face Patrick couldn't really decipher. “I mean, I haven't seen much of them,” Pete said. He tapped around on the dash nervously even though Patrick knew Pete knew Joe found it distracting to his driving. “They weren't had they just-”

“Weren't exactly what you were looking for,” Joe and Andy both finished at the same time.

“C'mon, Pete,” Joe said. “Sooner or later you're going to just have to accept that no one is going to be good enough for your songs.” He glanced at Pete from the corner of his eye and sort of back tracked. “And that's all fine and good for your artistic needs and all, but we gotta pay rent. And pretty soon we won't be able to if you can't just pick someone.”

Pete slammed his hands on the dash. “I know, okay! But I can't _just pick_ someone. That someone needs to understand the lyrics and why we're doing this and-” he cuts himself off. He glanced away and looked out the window. “These are personal. I don't want just anyone to sing them.”

Silence reigned in the van for a few moments. Eventually Andy, the long suffering peace keeper, spoke up. “We'll find someone,” he reassured. He nodded, once towards the front seat and once at Patrick, who was seated next to him.

Even though Patrick wasn't honestly sure they would find someone up to Pete's standards (or his own for that matter) he found Andy's words comforting. He could only hope that they would ring true by the end of the day because he wasn't sure how much more patience any of them would have left for the situation.

The set up was pretty easy but then came The Wait. Pete was chewing on his fingernails with nerves, Andy was banging away on the drum in front of him, and Joe was switching between pacing and sitting. Patrick was glad they had got there early enough to have time to set up, but just watching the three of them was enough to drive Patrick insane.

Just when Patrick was sure he'd snap, people began to show up. The first two guys who showed up were pretty good, but Patrick could tell their personalities had rubbed Joe or Andy the wrong way. They wouldn't have lasted long in the band even if they were the greatest things on earth. The guy after them was as sweet as could be, but he was definitely not what Pete was looking for. And so the day dragged on and on.

“This shit is almost painful,” Joe muttered after one guy walked out. Even Patrick had to admit that it had been more than a little embarrassing and cringe-worthy, and he had been doing his best to not judge any of them coming in. It wasn't fair to compare a human being's singing skills to that of a siren's after all.

Pete's face was buried in his arms, clearly attempting to block out the world. His fingernails were currently digging into his arms, creating crescent moons out of his skin.

Andy stared cluelessly between the three of them. “I think that was the last one for the day,” Andy said. “Why don't we just head home?”

Joe swung his head around to Andy, probably to fight him on that one, but one glance at Pete had him reconsidering. “Home sounds great. A little rest, a little food, and I'm sure we'll find the perfect person.”

Not once throughout this exchange did Pete look up. Patrick noticed. If it wasn't for the stress and tension visible on his body he might have thought he'd fallen asleep. He glanced at Joe and Andy helplessly, but they only shrugged in response. They were just as helpless as he was about these kinds of things.

Splitting the work between the three of them, they soon had all of their equipment packed up and ready to go. The only thing left to do was get Pete.

Patrick walked over and placed a hand lightly and gently on his shoulder. The reaction was instantaneous. One second he was right in front of Patrick, the next he had shoved Patrick's hand away and was storming off towards the van. Andy looked as though he was going to get on to Pete before Patrick could shake his head. Andy gave a head shake of his own, deciding to let it drop for now.

The ride back to the apartments was incredibly awkward. No one wanted to bring up anything that had happened or discuss their plans on singers or guitarists, yet not talking about them seemed to make them more obvious and awkward somehow.

“You wanna come over and-” Whatever Else Joe had been about to ask was abruptly cut off as Pete hoped out of the van and stormed towards his place. Joe sighed and ran a hand through his curly hair.

Patrick waved goodbye and got out of the van much slower and with a lot less slamming than Pete had. Andy's hand reached though the passenger's window and grabbed onto Patrick.

“If you need us- for any reason, just come get us, okay?” he asked.

Even though his eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, Patrick knew what his eyes would look like. They would be filled with that same deep care he'd shown when Patrick got sick, and all the worry and fear Patrick knew he must be feeling from the last time. It was all Patrick could do not to cry looking at him.

He nodded, not really knowing what else to do, and ran after Pete. By the time he reached him he was already unlocking the door and trudging his way inside. Patrick closed and locked the door behind him. He turned around just in time to see Pete head into his room and slam the door.

Patrick stood there in silence, not entirely sure what to do. He figured Pete would need time to cool down, but still, giving him too much space also seemed wrong. The apartment was way too quiet without Pete banging around in the kitchen or watching something on TV or messing around with his guitar. His entire existence just seemed to create noise and without it, Patrick was finding out, his own life was a little quiet and sad.

It felt wrong to make any noise himself, so he avoided turning on the TV or any games or music. Instead he read through his sign book, practicing as much of it as he could until he was convinced his hand would be permanently cramped.

The sun had went down long ago now and Pete still hadn't come out of his room. He would need to eat soon, or at least do something to reassure Patrick he was okay.

As he was no whiz in the kitchen, Patrick decided to make sandwiches for dinner. Peanut butter and jelly were perhaps not the best meal he could ever imagine making for Pete, but it would have to do for now. He even decorated it a tiny bit with some of the leftover fruit from their camping trip, hoping the sweetness and color might help drag Pete from his foul mood.

He set the food down on the floor and knocked low down on the door. He waited a moment, straining his ears to hear anything beyond the door, but there was nothing. Not even the creak of a bed spring. 

Patrick sighed and sat down, munching on his own dinner. He'd hoped that Pete might have at least opened the door to see what Patrick had wanted. Clearly that was not going to be the case.

Silently he debated if he should go and get Andy and Joe. They were probably at least a little bit better at handling these things than he was. Yet something stopped him. It wasn't like they could do anything for Pete that Patrick couldn't do himself anyways, other than break the door down, which definitely wouldn't put him in a great mood. Not to mention too many people might make him feel crowded, like they were teaming up against him.

He sighed again. He'd finished his own dinner next to Pete's door without even hearing one sound from him. He left Pete's dinner there, sitting in front of the door. That way, if he decided he was hungry later he could have it. He took his plate into the kitchen and cleaned it, still trying to keep one ear out for Pete's door.

_He's probably not coming out tonight,_ Patrick thought as he came back down the hall, only to see Pete's food still sitting there. _If Pete's not out by morning then I'll go to Andy and Joe,_ he decided. At least then he'd have the whole night to cool down.

He could feel another headache coming on so he hopped in the show to try and head it off. Sometimes that helped, although Patrick couldn't tell if it was the heat, the steam, or the water itself that was helping.

He stood under the hot water for as long as he could. When his legs started to shake he tried to sit down but slipped. His elbow connected loudly and painfully with the edge of the tub, sending different bottles in all directions.

If he had been able to, he would have cussed up a storm. The crack from his elbow and been so loud that he'd been sure he'd either broken it or the tub, and the pain from it was certainly not helping his head. The urge to throw up was strong, but he resisted it, with much pride.

These “attacks” seemed to be getting more and more common, and Patrick could understand why. He'd been gone from the ocean and disconnected with his speech so long it was almost amazing he was still alive. He was just thankful he'd been able to keep them hidden for the most part. A small excuse here, a tiny lie there and the other three never really questioned where he went to or why small errands might take a few minutes longer than they should.

A tiny noise caught his attention. It was almost nonexistent, like the person doing it really didn't want to be heard. He paused, composed himself, and shut off the water.

A door slammed.

Patrick sat there for a moment, trying to figure out if he'd heard right. Then he threw on a pair of pajamas and flung the bathroom door open.

No on was in sight. But Pete's dinner was missing.

And Patrick was going to count that as an accomplishment.


	13. Fell In Love With The Boy At The Rock Show

The next morning when Patrick woke up there was still no sign of Pete. His door was still closed and, despite how much it was killing him, Patrick left the door closed. He didn't even knock on it, hoping that Pete had maybe managed to get a little bit of sleep.

He roamed around the apartment, looking for something to do. For a while he entertained himself by looking at Pete's CDs and records again, but even that was boring when he couldn't listen to them.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of Joe's guitars laying in the corner next to one of Pete's basses. His anxiety and worry were too high for him to not have a musical outlet at the time, his throat burning with the desire to sing. Despite not wanting to wake Pete up, he picked the instrument up. Gently he began strumming, going through some chords Joe had taught him.

Ever since Joe had first started showing him some things on the guitar, he was hooked. While Pete and Andy were out working out, grocery shopping, or whatever else, Patrick had glued himself to Joe, who had proved himself to be a great teacher. He seemed to genuinely love teaching Patrick, which Patrick was thankful for.

He'd planned to surprise Pete by being able to play one of his songs for him, but Joe had almost slipped up about their practices on the camping trip. Thankfully, he'd stopped when he'd caught the look on Patrick's face. Now he wasn't sure how well-received his lessons would be, but he was also itching to release some of his pent up musical frustration.

He quietly moved his fingers across the strings, knowing that if Pete were truly asleep he would sleep through it. He played one song, then another, before going back and changing a couple of things. A note, how long to play it, sometimes even the beat itself was changed until he had something that resembled something of his own. The foundation for the song was still there, just with his own added flair and style.

“Since when can you play guitar?” Pete's voice said from behind him. It was scratchy, like he either hadn't used it in years or had been screaming for years. His hair was stuck up in odd directions, but not in his usually styled manner. His eyes were blood shot with dark bags underneath, and Patrick couldn't tell if it was from crying or staying up all night. Or both.

Patrick jumped, startled by Pete's appearance behind him. He hadn't even heard him come in to the living room much less get right behind him. _'Joe',_ he spelled. He stuck his pointer finger out on his left hand and rubbed the knuckles of his right hand over it _'Practice.'_ He signed taking something from his opened left palm and placing it into his head. “ _Taught me._ ”

For a moment nothing happened. Pete's arms were crossed, but not in anger. No, it was more in fear. Like he was afraid of something sitting right there in his living room. Maybe it was the fact that Patrick had hidden something from him, or maybe it was because it had been something with one of Pete's closest friends, who also didn't tell him. Pete was very big on loyalty and honesty. Either way, Patrick regretted it.

He used his pointer finger, holding it to his forehead and then moving it out once and then pointing at Pete. “ _For you_.” He signed. “ _I learned for you._ ” Which wasn't entirely true, he'd learned so he wouldn't go absolutely insane while living as a human, but he'd also wanted something special he and Pete could do together.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Pete uncrossed his arms. He walked over and sat down on the floor next to Patrick, who took that was a winning sign. He still didn't seem to be thrilled, but it was better than before.

“So what were you playing?” Pete asked. He glanced at a few pages Patrick had spread in front of him, recognizing Joe's handwriting, mixed with Patrick's, which was basically unreadable to anyone other than Patrick. His handwriting resembled a child's who had never been taught how to properly hold a pencil, which was also how Patrick felt writing it.

Patrick strummed a little bit and pointed to some lyrics _'Tonight the headphone's will deliver you to words that I can't say.'_

Pete smiled a little at the irony of the line Patrick had picked. Patrick, for his part, kept right on playing, not even seeming to notice it.

He nodded along and sat there in silence when Patrick finished. “Did Joe teach you that?” he asked. The playing was different, rough and unpolished, but it had potential to be better than the original.

Patrick briefly looked scared. He shook his head and began to play the song the way he had been taught. Really, he hadn't meant to play the changed version for Pete, it had just happened. 

“No, no, do the other way again,” Pete said. He hopped up and grabbed his bass, quickly getting it set up. “Do it again. Something like this?”

Patrick played and so did Pete, both of them changing now and then to match the other. The longer they played the bigger Pete's smile grew until Patrick was almost convinced last night had never happened.

They finished the song, making their way through it twice to their satisfaction. The floor beneath them had bumped several times, letting them know their neighbors had not enjoyed their free concert.

“Dude, that was fucking awesome!” Pete said. He reared back and punched Patrick in the arm, no harder than he usually would, and yet this time it almost caused him to lose his grip on the guitar. 

Patrick sucked air in through his teeth loudly, cradling his arm close to him. Pete held up his hands, keeping them far away from Patrick.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He tried to peek through Patrick's fingers to see what was wrong but he couldn't.

Gingerly, Patrick moved his hand to show the giant bruise that was making it's way across his elbow. It's purple, black, and blue made it look so much worse than it really was.

“Shit, did I do that?” Pete asked. He nearly flung himself at Patrick to get a closer look. He only stopped when he saw Patrick flinch.

“ _No. Fall,_ ” he signed. Pete gave him a disbelieving look.

“You seem to be falling a lot here lately, Patrick.”

“ _Fall_ ,” he signed again. “ _Last night. Shower._ ”

Pete's eyes grew wide. “So that was that noise I heard last night? You falling?” Patrick nodded. “Shit. I heard the noise and just thought you'd knocked stuff over.” He gave him a sheepish look. “I was gonna ask if you were alright through the door, and now seeing that bruise I guess I should have, but then I saw the food and the shower turned off and...”

They were both still and quiet for once. Then, Pete opened his mouth. “Thanks for that by the way. The dinner I mean.” He fiddled with his strings a bit. “I should have made sure you ate or something and-”

Patrick waved his hand in front of him, effectively cutting him off. “ _Not baby_ ,” he signed.

Pete laughed. “No, but I kind of was last night.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But this does solve one issue.” Patrick gave him a questioning look.

“Since you're going to be our new rhythm guitarist all we need is a singer.”

XXX

“You ready to go?” Pete asked.

Patrick paused in his actions, halting the bouncing of his feet from his toes to his heels. His hands stopped wringing, the water bottle in his hands nearly unrecognizable. 

His eyes were huge, nearly taking up half of his face. While Pete was glad to gaze into the blue eyes with such ease, he was aware of how nervous Patrick was and wanted to help calm him down.

“Hey, hey,” Pete said, practically running over to him. “What's wrong?”

“Five minutes!” a voice called out. A man stepped from behind a curtain waving a hand with all five fingers raised. He'd been doing it all night for other bands and now it was their turn.

Which was part of the problem. Over the last few days they'd managed to find a singer that, while not the greatest ever, was good enough for them to put on a show. They'd spent almost every waking moment changing and tweaking their songs, using Patrick's input very heavily as inspiration, and when they weren't doing that they were practicing their songs until they were perfect. Now it was time to see if any of it had paid off, and Patrick wasn't ready for any of that.

As the man stepped back out Patrick was able to see some of the people out there. And there were more than enough to make him want to be sick. That many humans in a tiny room? With all of them looking at him? Being captured and forced to put on a show for the amusement of humans? It was like a merfolk's worst nightmare made true.

He tried to calm down and remind himself why he was there. For Pete. And Joe and Andy. They needed him. Their new singer didn't know how to play the guitar so without him they literally couldn't go on.

“ _What if I_ ,” Patrick ran his fingers over his guitar in a mock of playing. “ _play wrong? People!_ ”

Pete smiled, looking as calm as he could be. Which made sense considering he'd been doing this for years now. “So are you afraid you'll mess up? Or are you afraid because there are so many people?” he asked.

Patrick considered for a moment. He took two fingers and dragged them through his open left hand. “ _Both?_ ” he signed and shrugged.

Pete nodded and put a hand to his chin, his eyes roaming over Patrick in consideration. “Well then,” he said. “I might just have the perfect thing for you.” He reached behind himself and pulled a black ball cap from where it had been tucked into his back pocket.

Patrick wasn't sure how the hat was going to help him, but he took it regardless. It easily went on, nearly falling all the way down to his eyes.

“See?” Pete said. “This is my lucky hat. I played my first ever show in this hat. That was my best night of playing because I didn't mess up once. So that takes care of that part.” He stepped forward and pushed the hat down, actually covering his eyes this time. “And see? Now you can't even see them.”

Patrick smiled. He wasn't sure how much luck the hat would actually bring him, but he wasn't going to question any of it. If bottles and stars could grant wishes then he supposed hats could hold luck.

The guy stepped back there. “You guys are on.” Pete gave Patrick a huge smile and a pair of thumbs up. “Let's go out there and rock it.”

XXX

The show wasn't going bad at all. Patrick was stationed somewhere near Joe, almost sandwiched between him and Andy's drum set. The singer, Will? Alex? Matt?, Patrick wasn't sure what his name was, was positioned right in the front and the middle and clearly loving it. Next to him was Pete, who would occasionally bounce around.

The stage wasn't really big enough for much bouncing, yet Pete did it. Sometimes he'd move closer to whatever his name was, while other times he'd jump back to Andy, nearly knocking over his symbols at one point.

The best and worst part was when he'd come over to Joe and Patrick's side, which happened more than once. Generally, he'd give Joe a wide berth, and seeing as how Joe liked to jump and spin that made sense. It was Patrick's space he'd felt the need to invade. Sometimes he'd do the lean, almost-heads-touching thing that he would do to Joe as well, or almost lean against him like he kept doing to their singer but other times....

More than once he would lean in and rest his head against Patrick's neck, his lips barely brushing as he mouthed words of encouragement or sometimes the lyrics to the song. _My smile's an open wound without you, and my hands are tied to papers inked to bring you back..._ It was almost like a kiss on the neck. Other times Pete would come up behind him when Pete wasn't playing and wrap his arms around Patrick from behind.

Every time Pete come near him on stage his body became a war ground. Just having Pete near him reassured him, his presence enough to almost drown out the crowd and the nightmare-ish thoughts of being forced to perform in a zoo or lab for the rest of his life. Yet his presence, especially so intimately close threw Patrick for a loop. Pete had never exactly been reserved with touches, throwing an arm around almost anyone's shoulders, giving hugs when they were needed, sprawling across people's laps while watching TV, but this was different. If his own feelings weren't enough to go by, the look Andy and Joe would give him as he walked away was.

Patrick never leaned into the touch, but he also never pushed him away. He didn't have the heart to, and if he was honest, he didn't want to. A kiss on the neck _was_ getting pretty close to a kiss on the lips after all. 

Pete spoke a few time throughout their set. Mostly, it was to ask how everyone was doing (which Patrick learned was a cue to scream, not really answer) or to announce the next song. A lot of the people in the crowded club knew their band already and sang along easily to their songs.

When the got to some of them Patrick had changed he could tell they were confused. Most of the lyrics had stayed the same so they could sing along still, but the beat they danced or jumped or whatever to was different. They seemed to like it either way.

“Alright guys,” Pete said. “So you might have noticed that we've got a new singer and a new guitarist.” Several screams. “And we've changed some of our songs a bit.” A few more screams. “So I just thought I'd introduce everyone before we play our last song and beat it.”

He pointed to Joe and Andy in turn, introducing them to the audience. Most of them seemed to already know them, several fans cheering _Joe Trohman!_ and _Andy Hurley!_ Pete pointed to the singer. “And this is Alex! You guys, he's amazing! He learned all of our songs in about five days or so just so we could perform for you tonight!”

Then he turned his attention and huge smile in Patrick's direction. If Patrick's whole face hadn't already been as red as it could be it would have gotten redder. As it was, he felt like he might explode anyways.

“And this guy! As you can tell, he's also new.” Several yells. “His name's Patrick and he literally learned how to play guitar this week just for you guys!” A few louder yells. “He's also the one who helped to bring the new sound you guys seem to be really enjoying!” More yells. “He was pretty nervous for his first show tonight, so let's make sure this last song is the best one yet!”

The crowd fucking lost it. Several girls screamed Patrick's name, reaching up for him on the stage. He smiled awkwardly and scooted back further away and even more behind Joe.

“They love ya, Stump!” Joe said, winking as he did. Apparently it was possible for his cheeks to get even redder. He could practically feel steam coming from himself now.

At that, the lights went back down and the last song started.

Everything, from the excited roar of the crowd that didn't know him, yet still seemed to accept him, to Pete's actions to the amazing rush he got performing in front of everyone, despite his fear, led to a perfect night. He was sure, no matter how long he lived, there would never be a more perfect night than this.

There was just something about receiving praise for something other than his voice that made him feel amazing, especially since it was from humans. For as long as he could remember he'd been a Siren, and a prized one at that. Anyone that complimented him usually complimented his voice, which was nice, but he could never tell if it was genuine. Due to his odd habit of accidentally enchanting people, sometimes even merfolk (although a lot less strong than regular humans and a lot less likely to happen) he could never tell if it was just his voice or his Song that they liked.

This had been different through. Together the five of them had made the crowd fall in love with them, all without Patrick even having to say a word.

That hadn't been what Patrick had wished for the other night under the stars, but he almost regretted _not_ wishing for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The singer is not meant to be anyone specifically. I just chose Alex because there seems to be a lot of singers named Alex!


	14. Butterflies Are Better When They're Drowned In Flames

The set ended soon after that, with another band soon getting ready to take their place. Both Joe and Andy wrapped their arms around Patrick in a bear hug. The two of them reassured him that the concert had been a success and that he had been amazing. He practically beamed, signing, _“Thank you, thank you!”_ over and over again.

“The crowd loved you, everyone loved you!” Joe said. He slapped Patrick on the back a couple of times before turning to Andy. “We're gonna pack up some stuff and then I'm buying you a shot!”

Patrick nodded. Despite never having actually had a drink of alcohol he had witnessed Joe drinking a couple of times. Andy gave him the same disapproving look he always gave Joe, before heading off.

Patrick glanced around. The backstage area was now empty aside from the three of them. A frown briefly formed on his face, and he reached over to stop Joe from leaving.

 _“Where P-E-T-E?”_ he signed.

Joe stopped, staring at Patrick's hand for a moment. “Pete?” he asked and Patrick nodded. “I don't know. I think I saw him heading into the club part. He's probably waiting for us if you wanna go in there and wait for us too,” he said.

Patrick's smile was instantly back, as was the insanely giddy feeling he'd gotten from the show. Honestly, he felt as if he was floating up among the stars he loved so much. With the smooth way everything had gone that night and the amazing way he was feeling from the concert, he was convinced that this was going to be the night. _This_ would be the night that he told Pete he loved him. Whether he returned the favor or not would be something else entirely. 

His blood was rushing in his ears, and he practically bounced away from Joe and Andy as if he'd had springs on his feet. He was gone so fast he missed the look of amusement that covered their faces.

His heart pounded in his chest and his skin prickled when he thought about the way Pete's lips and breath had felt on his neck that night. Surely that was enough of a reason or proof that he was doing something right, right? Pete wouldn't have done any of that if he didn't at least return Patrick's feelings at least a little bit.

Patrick had it all figured out. He was going to walk up to Pete and just do it. He was going to use the first bit of sign language he had learned. _'I love you,'_ and then he would kiss him. Short, sweet, to the point, and really hard to fuck up. Now all he had to was find him.

He rounded the corner, facing one of the hallways that led to the rest of the club. His heart raced even faster as he caught sight of Pete, his dark hair spiked with sweat from the show. His back was to Patrick and he hadn't even noticed him yet.

Unable to wait any longer, his feet began to move towards Pete. But just as soon as they started, they stopped. His ears had picked up another voice, a girl's voice, somewhere in front of Pete. It was hard to hear over the sound of people talking on the other side of the wall and the filler music they played between seats. Pete shifted his feet, revealing a pretty almost-red head girl. She was leaning in close to Pete way closer than was usually socially acceptable, even for Pete.

Patrick froze. Who was this girl? Was she the girl Pete had first mentioned in his letters or was she just a fan? Then again, a fan probably wouldn't stand that close to him, nor would he look so in love.

God that was the worst part. Her face held something, seeming to be a strange mix of concern and care with a tinge of anger, but his face looked at her like she'd fucking hung the stars in the damn sky. Like the moon and sun only ever rose because she wished it.

Patrick instantly wanted to hate her.

Who the hell did she think she was, coming up in there on Patrick's big night, right during his proclamation no less? If she was his ex that wasn't fair, she'd had a chance with him, and she'd let it go. You shouldn't get to break someone and then come back. It wasn't fair.

Patrick wanted to hate her, but he couldn't. Not when she was making Pete look so in love, and not when she might just be the best thing for him at the moment.

Pete reached out for her cheek and kissed it. Her face was a stone wall, no signs of the butterflies that would have exploded in Patrick's stomach at such a move. Pete was whispering, too low for Patrick to hear, but he didn't need to. He didn't want to hear how much he loved her anyways.

He stumbled back against the wall, trying to make his escape from the dim hallway as quickly and silently as possible. Unfortunately, his own stupid, useless, _human_ feet faltered, leaving him to pick himself up off the ground and run.

He was gone before Pete even finished saying his name.

XXX

The club, which had seemed to be packed with such a powerful and invigorating energy before, now felt stuffy and oppressive. The bodies that had once reached for him on stage were now pressing in, jostling him around and around. Why were they so happy? The music wasn't that great and no one seemed to be capable of dancing to any sort of a beat, much less the one that was being playing on stage.

A particularly strong push forced him into a body perched on a stool, nearly knocking it smooth off. The guy, who Patrick noted was quite a few inches taller than him, whipped around, ready to lay out whoever had knocked into him.

“Patrick?” the guy asked.

Patrick looked up, no longer afraid of receiving a fist to the face. Alex stood in front of him, some kind of drink spilled down his dark shirt front and into his lap. His anger seemed to instantly disappear and was promptly replaced with a friendly grin.

“C'mon, sit down!” he said, gesturing to the seat next to him. His voice was too loud, even with the music and people going on around them, and his movements seemed less than sure. He was nothing like the person who had been on stage or at practice the past week or so.

“You drink?” he asked. Patrick shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was drink. All he wanted to do was go and curl up somewhere away from the world but seeing as how he was probably about to get kicked out of Pete's life in favor of the pretty girl and his other home was deep under the ocean that was highly unlikely to happen.

Maybe he did want a drink after all.

“Aw, c'mon, it'll be fine,”Alex said. He ordered two more of whatever he had previously been drinking and slid one towards Patrick. “It'll be fun, I swear.”

Patrick eyed the drink for a moment. He glanced around the club, noticing how everyone seemed to have someone, a best friend, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, except for him. And, he supposed, Alex.

He took the shot and downed it, the way he'd seen several people do that night. Whatever it was made his nose and throat burn while it was going down, almost to the point where he was convinced he'd spit it back up. Alex cheered.

“Hell yeah!” he said, laughing at Patrick's grossed out face. “Now it's a fucking party.” He tossed his shot back like it was water and ordered two more.

Before Patrick knew it, he too was tossing them back like a pro, hoping to drown those damn lying butterflies in flames before they could ever give him anymore heartache.

XXX

Pete called after Patrick but it was too late. He'd already made it out into the swirling mass of bodies before Pete had even made it halfway down the hall.

“Was that him?” Ashlee asked, coming up before Pete. He jumped, somehow almost forgetting she was there.

“What?” he asked.

“The guy you were talking about. Your little 'muse' or 'Siren of the Sea' or whatever it is you're calling him these days,” she said. Her tone was teasing, but not mocking or hurtful.

“His name's Patrick,” Pete mumbled.

“Ah, good to see he has a name. Siren Boy was getting old.”

Pete whirled around, the hurt plain to see in his eyes. Ashlee stepped back, her hands up as a gesture of peace.

“I'm sorry. For the comment and the fact that he saw that,” she said.

Pete shrugged and kicked the ground, even though his nonchalance was clearly faked and he's rather be kicking himself. “See what? It's not like we're dating.”

She crossed her arms. “ _We're_ not dating, or _you two_ aren't dating?”

“Both okay!” Pete yelled, waving his arms. “Me and you aren't a thing and me and him never were a thing.”

Her looked softened. “Do you want you two to be a thing?”

Pete practically growled. He ripped at his hair, needing the pain to help focus on the here and now and to help not lash out at Ashlee. “Why do you care? You left me!” he screamed.

A torn expression came over her face. “I _never_ left you,” she said, her voice strong but full of tears. “I never left, but we weren't good for each other, Pete. I wasn't happy and hell, I know you weren't happy or else you wouldn't have tried to commit suicide.”

Both of them froze. No one really said the word out loud. It was usually implied through vague terms like “the accident” or “the incident” or just “the pier”. To say it out loud right now almost gave it so much more meaning.

Ashlee covered her mouth. She was angry at herself for her lack of control, Pete could tell by the twitch of her hand, as she always tried to be in control of every situation. But she rarely ever achieved it, in fact it was her passion that has drawn Pete to her in the first place. And what potentially made them so bad for each other in the end.

“Who told you?” Pete asked. He knew that the hospital had labeled what had happened to him as an accident, and no one had been notified of it, as both Joe and Andy were now his medical contacts and had both been there already.

She shifted from foot to foot. “Don't get mad,” she said, even though she knew that wasn't going to be possible. She was silent for a beat longer than was strictly necessary. “Joe called me the night it happened. He told me that I might wanna come back, at least for a little while, to check on how you were doing.”

“You didn't though,” Pete mumbled lowly.

She shook her head. “No, I didn't. I was on my way back into town a few days later when Joe called again. God, Pete, I was scared of what he'd tell me this time. Maybe you'd tried again and got hurt worse or _worse_ you'd tried again and actually succeeded.” She shut her eyes and took a steadying breath. “But he didn't tell me that. Instead he told me you were acting obsessed, but not suicidal anymore. You went to the pier again but not to throw lyrics into the ocean anymore. He said it was like you were looking for someone.”

She leaned around him, staring at where Patrick had disappeared. “And then he called to tell me you had called and asked him and Andy to take all of my 'shit' and 'get rid of it',” she said the air quotes practically visible. “He thought you were in a manic mood, which, y'know.” Pete did know. “So he called me. Imagine how surprised I was to get his next call that night and hear him say it was because you were going to let some stranger move in with you.”

Pete stared at her in disbelief. He couldn't believe Joe had called her and told her everything. “So that's why I saw your car in the parking lot the day after Patrick moved in.”

Ashlee nodded. “I was worried. Worried about your manic mood and then worried you'd let some stranger randomly move in with you, who you kept insisting was a merman and- well, you can see why I was worried. So you can excuse me for being a bit pissed off when I saw you and realized you were just fine and practically running from me into Joe and Andy's apartment with Patrick.”

Pete at least had the decency to look ashamed. “So why are you here now?”

She grabbed her phone and wiggled it in front of Pete. “I got another call a few days ago from Joe and Andy. Apparently you were stressed out about finding a singer or something?” She waited for him to nod. “They were worried about how you were acting and called me again. I guess it worked out, though, if you found your siren. Too bad I missed the show, I would have loved to hear him sing.”

Pete shook his head. “Patrick's not a singer. He can't even talk. He's mute.”

A look of surprise came over her face. “Oh. Well, I guess it worked out well either way.”

A sign escaped Pete's lips. “Why are you here, Ashlee?”

“I told you, they called-”

“No,” Pete said. “I know that. I meant, why do you keep coming back?”

She let out a sigh of her own and took his hand and held it as gently as he had held her cheek earlier. “I told you earlier before Patrick showed up that I love you. And I do. I still do and probably always will. But I know you don't love me the same way you used to, just the same way I don't love you like that.” She kissed his hand. “Just because we aren't dating doesn't mean I don't care about you. I just recognize, now, that we would probably be better off with different people.”

Tears shone in Pete's eyes. Ashlee was one of the first girls he had dated and ever really felt a true connection with. Sure, their mutual passion had ended up hurting both of the more than once, but what did that matter? That was nothing when you had a love like theirs. 

He looked at her big blue eyes and instantly thought of another pair of blue eyes.

“If you need me, don't hesitate to call,” she said seriously. “But I can't keep getting calls from Joe not knowing what state you're going to be in.” He nodded. “And Pete?” She waited until she had his full attention. “I know what you look like in love. And I've never seen you look more in love than when you were describing you Siren, Patrick, to me earlier. Don't throw that away.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and exited through the back door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated having to include Ashlee, as many people always try to make her out to be the "bad guy" (which she's not), but literally no one else that I tried to put in this scene worked as well as she did. I really hope that she came off right, but I guess I'll leave that up you guys to interpret.


	15. I Know I Messed But And It Might Be Over... But Let Me Call You When I'm Sober

Pete finally made his way back into the club. After Ashlee had left he'd taken a few minutes to compose himself in the bathroom backstage, making sure his eye liner was smudged the right amount and the right way and not in the way that made it obvious he had been crying.

He managed to blend in easily enough with all of the people there, with no one really stopping to notice who he was. It's not like their band was super famous, but they were well enough known in the scene to get stopped in the club. Sometimes it was for a picture or a drink or a dance, but he didn't have time for any of them tonight.

Even while standing on his tip toes, which gave him a couple of more inches to his height, he was unable to see where Patrick had gone to. There were so many people bobbing along to the music, but no sign of Pete's hat that he'd stuck on Patrick's head earlier that night anywhere. He wondered for a moment if he had left somehow but he only knew four people there, and Pete was pretty sure Joe or Andy would tell him if they were taking Patrick home.

That did leave Alex though. Would _he_ tell Pete if he decided to run Patrick home? Would Patrick even go to Alex for help?

In the end Pete ran into Joe first.

“Hey, dude!” Joe said excitedly, adrenaline still pumping from the show. His smile was huge.

It pissed Pete off.

“Hey,” Pete said shoving Joe back a step. Confusion clouded Joe's eyes, and he brought his hands up in defense.

“What the hell, Pete?” he asked. The last time he'd seen Pete he had been practically over the moon. Now he was acting like he wanted to drop kick Joe there.

“What the hell? You're asking _me_ 'what the hell'?” Pete said, coming closer. Joe took another step back, their argument drawing a couple of people's attention, even over the music. “I should be asking you that. Ashlee? You called Ashlee?”

Joe's eyes widened. He glanced at Andy, who had approached from behind him, his eyes begging for help. When none came he turned back towards Pete. 

“How did you know?” he asked.

Pete swung his arm to point to the hallway, almost taking out a waitress with a tray. He didn't apologize. “Because she fucking showed up and told me right before Patrick disappeared.”

Andy's browns creased. “Patrick disappeared?”

Pete was sure they were both missing the main point here. “Yeah, he showed up while I was talking to Ashlee, and I haven't been able to find him since.”

“Wait, he saw you two talking?” Joe asked.

Now Pete knew they were missing the point. “Yeah, he saw us in the hallway.”

Joe and Andy exchanged glances. “Shit,” Joe muttered and Andy nodded in agreement. They'd both seen how Patrick had felt about Pete on stage, you would have been blind not to. Both of them knew no good could have come from Patrick seeing them together.

Pete was convinced he was going to explode. He opened his mouth, ready to begin a tirade that would have put all others to shame, but something caught his eye. 

There, flattened on the ground in between a couple's feet, was his hat. It was almost entirely under the bar, just barely visible between the bar stools and feet. 

Pete shoved his way through the crowd, Andy and Joe right on his heels. He dove to his knees and grabbed the hat, almost knocking the couple off of their stools in the process. They cussed and flipped him off, but he did it right back and they walked off.

“Isn't that your hat?” Joe asked. Pete was still angry with him, still seething at his, in Pete's mind, betrayal, but that was a fight that could wait. It would be better to do that somewhere more private and after Patrick had been found anyways.

“I gave it to Patrick,” Pete said. He spun around, looking for any other sign of the young man. “For the show. So he'd have good luck.”

Andy nodded, remembering Patrick wearing it. “Excuse me!” he said, just loud enough for the bar tender to hear him. “Have you seen the guy who was wearing this hat?”

She glanced at it a moment before looking at the guys. “Yeah, you just missed him. Your guitarist and singer just headed that way,” she said, pointing toward some booths.

Pete's heart sank. He knew what those booths tended to be used for. He'd had plenty of fun back there before he'd settled down with Ashlee. He was curious as to why their singer and Patrick were headed that way though, and from the look on Joe and Andy's faces so were they.

The area where some of the booths were stashed was very dim. Hardly any light from the dance floor or stage reached back here, which was just the way people liked it. The dancers didn't want to see it, and the lovers didn't want to be seen.

Sticky alcohol covered most of the tables by this time of night as they squeezed their way through. Why Pete had ever found this an appealing place to do anything he didn't know. Now the area just served as a reminder of how far he had fallen back then, just a stupid and selfish person who would take whatever he could get, however he could get it.

Pete was almost convinced that the bar tender had been mistaken. All of them were either empty, full of teens or twenty-somethings who couldn't keep their hands off of each other, or being used as beds for people who were too drunk to drive home and too broke to get a cab.

Then he caught a glimpse of what he had been looking for, but also hoping to never see, at least not in this area. Patrick's dirty, strawberry blonde hair caught the limited amount of light in his surroundings. It was hard to see, half ducked under the table with a hand running through it, but there was no mistaking it either.

Pete froze for a moment, taking in the scene in front of him. It was as if his mind didn't understand any of what he was seeing. If he hadn't heard Joe and Andy's stunned whisperings he might have thought he was hallucinating, his mind coming up with the worse case scenario.

He blinked. They were still there.

Alex had Patrick laying back across the large, circular booth seat, his body nearly covering him. His hand was tangled in Patrick's hair, turning his head this way and that. Alex's lips were roaming everywhere, Patrick's neck, his lips, his ears. Yet Patrick didn't move to make much of an effort back, though the dopey smile he was wearing said he wasn't exactly hurting.

Alex must have felt eyes on him because he turned towards them. He grinned at them and waved. “Hey guys,” he said, as if his tongue hadn't just been practically down Patrick's throat.

“What the fuck?” Pete asked, his body finally responding. “What the actual fuck?!” Pete said, louder this time, his anger coming through. Andy stepped forward and grabbed his arm, but he shrugged him off.

“What?” Alex asked. He glanced in confusion between everyone who was gathered there.

His act of innocence pissed Pete off even more. “No, what the _fuck_!?” This time Joe and Andy both stepped up to grab his arms.

“Can you say anything else?” Alex asked, laughing a bit.

Pete's face was as red as the blood pulsing right under his skin. “Can you get the fuck off of him!?”

Again, Alex looked confused. He crawled off of Patrick until he was no longer straddling him and was instead sitting right beside him. “There, that better?”

“No!” Pete yelled, yanking on his arms.

Now anger was beginning to come onto Alex's face. “What the hell is your problem?”

Pete's eyes were focused on Patrick now. “What did you do to him?” he asked harshly.

Patrick was just laying there. His eyes had now opened and were looking over the room, glazed blues nothing like they usually looked. He frowned and twitched, searching with tiny movements of his hands, as if he were a blind man, to see where Alex had gone.

“I didn't _do_ anything,” Alex said. “We had a few shots, he was leaning on me, and I kissed him. He seemed pretty into it so I brought him back here.” He gestured to the booth. “We were having a great time until you came back here.”

Pete felt his heart drop somewhere near his feet. When they had first walked up it was easy to be mad at Alex. How dare he take his Patrick and try and make out with him?

(Wait, since when was he _his_ Patrick?)

But now it was harder. If Patrick had actually kissed back, if he had actually came back here of his own free will... Well that cast things in a different light.

“What on Earth did you give him to drink?” Andy said. He stepped away, sensing the loss of tension in Pete's arm, and made his way towards Patrick.

Alex shrugged. “Just exactly what I was drinking. Some vodka mainly.” He watched as Andy began to check Patrick over, making sure he really was okay. “I didn't think he'd get this drunk though.” He scratched the back of his head.

“He's never drank before,” Joe mumbled. Pete glanced at him in a questioning way. “He said so earlier. I was gonna buy his first drink tonight.”

A grimace crossed Alex's face. “I guess I took that honor.” He shook his head. “Damn, he's gonna have one hell of a first hangover.”

Joe scowled at him and made his way to Patrick. Andy had managed to prop him up, gently shaking him to try and get his attention. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Patrick gave a drunken smile. He opened his mouth and began to move it. He seemed almost confused when no sound came out of it.

“You need to sign,” Andy reminded gently. Had he forgotten he was mute in his drunken state?

Patrick grabbed his throat in surprise. Tears began to fill his eyes as he continued to mouth words at them, trying to make them understand.

“Sign, Patrick,” Joe said just as gently. Patrick glared at him, pushing Joe's comforting hands away from him. _'You sign!'_ was the only clear thing he said. The rest was too distorted by his drunken mouth.

Pete watched all this, his heart slowly breaking. How had one of the most amazing nights ever taken such a terrible turn? Fat tears continued to roll down Patrick's face as his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

“Patrick,” he said, almost silently. It was amazing anyone heard him over the music, much less Patrick who was having a borderline mental breakdown.

Patrick paused, tears still rolling, but all of his attention was now on Pete. Those blue eyes staring at him with such hope but also pain seemed to burn him.

Everything he had wanted to say, _'it'll be okay, you're alright, I love you,'_ seemed to burn away. “Let's get you home.”

The tears fell heavier than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since I've last updated my roommate ordered a giant Patrick Stump blanket for me and I LOVE IT! It just came in today and it's literally the softest blanket I've ever had before.
> 
> ALSO! One of my favorite tumblr bloggers posted me on a fic rec list! I know it might be dumb to be so excited about stuff like this, but seriously, I squealed and freaked out. So thank you to everyone who's still reading! I'll try and keep updating more and more, as the end is coming "near" but I don't know how many more updates will happen. I know at least a solid four, but maybe more.


	16. Can Humans Flop Like Fishes?

Maybe it was the way the lights in the club made the shadows on Alex's face seem even darker than they were. Or maybe it was the way he'd leaned in and kissed Patrick's cheek so gently, as if he were afraid he'd break. Or maybe it was the way his brown eyes reminded him of another pair of brown eyes.

Or maybe he just wanted to be loved again and break the curse.

Either way, the result had been the same: Alex had kissed him, he'd kissed him back, and then they were stumbling their way blindly towards the booths. Or at least Patrick was. Alex didn't seem to even be phased by the alcohol in his system yet.

 _'True love's kiss breaks the curse,'_ Patrick thought. _'I'm sure I could learn to love Alex. It'd probably be easier to make him love me than to make Pete.'_

Just thinking about Pete made Patrick want to kiss Alex harder. It was the tiny, petty part of him, the part that would love to make out with Alex to prove that he didn't care Pete was probably making out with that pretty girl backstage.

Alex pushed him back until he was laying out in a booth seat. The change in perspective flipped Patrick's stomach, almost allowing for all the alcohol to come pouring out of his mouth. He just barely managed to hold it in.

He reached his floppy hands up towards where Alex was. His fingers numbly brushed against the buttons on his flannel shirt, earning a laugh from Alex.

“Eager, aren't ya?” Alex asked. Patrick smiled and opened his mouth to say something, having forgotten about his voice, when Alex's body suddenly pressed down on top of him. His lips sealed over Patrick's, shutting off all thought of communication.

The kissing genuinely felt nice. The hands tangled in his hair felt even better.

The longer they kissed the lighter his mind felt, yet his body just seemed to grow even heavier. Alex's hand traced up and down his body, leaving sparks shooting up and down his spine. He didn't know where any of this was going, but he was at least going to enjoy it.

Eventually Alex pulled himself away from Patrick. He frowned, wondering where he'd gone. The loss of heat and company was greatly missed.

“Hey guys,” Alex's voice rumbled through Patrick. 

Patrick tried to turn his head to see who he was addressing but the room was spinning too much. His eyes slid closed until he heard _his_ voice.

“What the fuck? What the actual fuck!?” It was Pete. And he was angry.

But why was he so angry? Did it have something to do with him and Alex making out back here? That was hardly fair considering he'd probably made out with that girl and the fact that they weren't actually dating. Unless the problem wasn't with _who_ he was kissing but _what_. Could it be that Pete was angry at Patrick for making out with a guy? He'd hardly seemed the type to be mad at something like that before, but then again he'd never seen his new “roommate” make out with someone like this before either. What if he was grossed out and that's why he was so angry?

He heard Pete and Alex go back and forth a couple of times, their words blurring and running together until they made no sense. There was confusion in Alex's tone and anger in Pete's and Patrick just couldn't understand anymore.

The warm feeling that had been from Alex hovering over him disappeared. His eyes felt heavy as he looked up at the ceiling, not really seeing it. It was more out of focus than it usually was when he didn't wear Andy's glasses and it was also... moving? Or was he moving? Or was the whole world moving and he was standing still?

He frowned and tried to pull Alex back to him, to help keep him stable and warm, but it was as if his arms and hands weighed a million pounds. He wanted his anchor back. He wanted to go back to the happy, loopy feeling he'd had before, and get rid of the boat-lost-at-sea feeling.

A few seconds later (or was it hours? Or had any time really passed at all?) he felt calloused hands touching him. They weren't the pushy, need to touch more now hands from earlier but he appreciated them none the less.

Something, or someone rather, pulled him into a sitting position. He caught a glimpse of Andy, but only briefly before his eyes settled on the floor. Joe's shoes came into view and his hands were added to the mix, resting on his shoulders as Andy started to shake him.

“Are you okay?” Joe asked, worry in his tone.

Why would there be worry? What was there to be worried about? Maybe they felt the drifting and spinning motion of everything, too. As long as Patrick wasn't left alone he kind of enjoyed the drifting feeling. It reminded him of the ocean.

He smiled and opened his mouth to explain this to Joe, that if he just relaxed it would feel like currents in the water, but nothing came out. That was weird, his voice had never failed him before...

“You need to sign,” Andy said, as if he were talking to a particularly soft but hardheaded child.

Sign? Why would he need to sign? He had his voice dammit! He'd show them. He grabbed his throat as unwanted tears began to form in his eyes. He was a siren for fuck's sake!

“Sign, Patrick,” Joe said, patting his shoulders. The use of his real name didn't escape him. Joe rarely, if ever, called him anything other than that terrible yet wonderful nickname Hayley had given him that first week on the beach. Something must be seriously wrong if he was willing to use Patrick's actual name.

“ _No_!” He pushed Joe's hands away. Let Joe and Andy and Pete and everyone else in the world fucking sign. He ranted at them, hating the pitying looks he couldn't see, the voices they didn't _deserve_ to have, and most of all himself. What had been the point of his whole deal? He was fucking _dying_ without his voice and what had he learned? To play the fucking guitar? Great, those don't work under the fucking ocean, and they probably wouldn't work in the afterlife either. He was dying, whether it was from his lack of siren Song or by his own stupid heartbreak didn't matter at this point. It was going to happen.

Tears rolled down his face, leaving salty tracks that reminded him too much of the ocean. He tried to cover his face up, as if the others hadn't already witnessed his crying.

' _Great_ ,' the terrible part of his brain thought, ' _Just another thing to make you even more embarrassing._ '

Then a soft voice broke through, barely audible over his sobs. “Patrick,” Pete whispered.

There. That was why he had done all this. He'd fallen in love with this human who he'd wanted to see happy and whole and in love. And that was apparently what he had received, just not with him.

He glanced up through his tears at the one person who could make this better. He could kiss him right there, admit his love for him with a kiss and _boom!_ it would be over and he'd have his voice back and a boyfriend.

“Let's get you home,” he said.

Patrick's world shattered. What home? Did he mean the tiny apartment Pete had been oh so kind enough to share with him while he slowly died? He must, because that was the only home he had now. He'd been cut off from his real home, the one he had grown up in. He wanted to go swimming with Brendon again and annoy Travie and Gabe as much as he could. He wanted to see everyone who would gather around as he would sing while Brendon danced the most off beat dance possible, which usually ended with a fin smacking someone in the face. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss being able to enchant people with his singing. The experience on stage tonight had been perfect and he'd loved the feeling of love he'd got from the crowd without even saying a word, but it's hadn't been... Useful? He might not have been the best hunter back home due to his scarred fin, but he'd still been able to hold his own just fine, and even be the one responsible for saving them more times than he cared to admit. Here he had to depend on everyone for everything. He couldn't even make fucking _lunch_ right.

The longer he thought about all these things the more he cried. Andy's arm wrapped around his shoulder as he pulled him in close for a hug. Low whispers of reassurances came easily over his lips, hoping that Patrick was listening to any of it.

His body felt useless and malleable, like gum left out in the hot sun. Patrick could feel Andy pulling him close and then standing up, supporting half his weight while Joe took the other half.

Pete's voice filtered in and out, speaking to Alex. Patrick couldn't exactly make out what he was saying, but he understood the gist of it and Alex was apparently out of the band.

“Hold him,” Andy said. His weight was very suddenly shifted to the right and the smell of Joe's shampoo filled his nose. The smell, while usually nice, was way too strong at the moment. The urge to gag was strong, but he pursed his lips and preserved. He refused to embarrass himself even further tonight.

He must have had a pained look on his face because Joe reached a hand up and patted his hair. “Shh, you're okay, Patrick,” he said.

Patrick wanted to tell him no, he wasn't, he was surely dying right then and there, especially since Joe was calling him by his real name, but he couldn't. Even if he knew all the signs to tell him, his arms still weren't cooperating with him, much less his hands.

The sound of keys scraping against metal reached his ears, as did the sound of the van door opening. Andy was soon back at his side, helping Joe ease him into the passenger's seat. One of them reached for the belt to buckle Patrick in, but Pete stepped up.

“Don't want you to go flying out of this bucket of bolts, do we Patrick?” he said, and Patrick's heart twitched at his words, almost the exact same from the day they met.

Pete gave him a watery smile and gently closed the door. He held his hand out for the keys, which Andy handed over without a problem.

“We'll get packed up and use someone else's van tonight,” Joe said, his voice muffled through the glass and the alcohol. He glanced towards Patrick, a sad look on his face. “Just take care of him, okay?”

A nod and a serious look was all he got in reply as Pete went and climbed into the driver's side. A few minutes later and they were on the road, a lot less excitement in Patrick's veins this time.

His mouth started moving against his will, mouthing along to one of their songs from tonight. He leaned his head against the cool glass, pretending he was back there and singing.

“What are you doing?” Pete asked. He gave him a curious look. “Are you praying?”

Patrick scrunched his brows. He wasn't really praying in the traditional sense that Pete had meant, but he could see the comparison. His Song had basically always been his main belief anyways, why should now be any different?

“ _Singing_ ,” he signed, his hands and arms barely working. 

“Singing?” Pete asked, hoping he'd read Patrick's signs right and that was actually what he had meant to sign.

Patrick nodded. Silence filled the car again until Pete broke it.

“Why did you do it?” Pete eventually asked.

Patrick waited a minute before shrugging. Why had he kissed him? Why did it matter? It was done either way.

“Do you know anything?” Pete growled out.

Patrick whipped his head around to look directly at Pete. He didn't even need to ask _what_ because Pete went on.

“You don't know how to write or sign or cook or where you're from or where you're friends are. You can't even tell me how you became homeless or where you've been living since right before we met you, because I sure as hell know it was not that beach, because I would have seen you before,” he said, pausing to take a huge breath. “And now you don't even know why you were making out with some loser in a club.”

His words hurt more than he would even know. They reminded him he was nothing but a burden to Pete and Joe and Andy. That he was different from them, and he could never truly tell them who he was without them thinking he was crazy or something. As much as they hurt, they sparked a fight deep in Patrick.

“ _Same, you kissed a girl_ ,” he signed, frustrated with his limited knowledge of sign with this fight.

“What?” Pete asked.

Patrick placed his own hand to his mouth and made a disgusting mock of kissing it. Then he pointed back to the club.

“I didn't kiss anyone!”

“ _Liar_!” he signed viciously.

Pete gripped the steering wheel violently tight. “I didn't kiss anyone. That was you. Or are you so wasted you don't even remember?”

Patrick was pissed now. Energy surged through him, giving him the strength to sit up straight and sign at him. “ _Pretty girl, long reddish hair, in the hall?_ ” he signed.

Pete's face took on a look of surprise and confusion. It was clear in Patrick's mind that he hadn't thought Patrick had seen it all then. “Do you mean Ashlee?” Patrick sneered and mouthed her name oddly. “I kissed her cheek! That's all.”

“ _Don't believe you_ ,” Patrick signed and meant it.

Pete rolled his eyes in frustration. “Well, it's the truth, which is more than you ever tell me.”

A glare was shot from Patrick to Pete, pining him in place and his own eyes on the road. He had no idea why he was even arguing with Patrick when it was totally obvious he was as drunk as a skunk. He knew if he turned to look at Patrick they'd probably physically fight.

“ _I want out_ ,” he signed. Pete missed it, due to staring straight ahead, which pissed Patrick off even more. He slammed an open palm to the dashboard, causing Pete to jump and look at him. “ _I want out!_ ” he signed harder, showing even more emotion.

“What?” Pete asked. “No, I'm not letting you out at the side of the road.” He shook his head, just to let Patrick know how ridiculous he was being.

Patrick mouthed it over and over, hell, if he'd had his voice he would have been screaming it. Pete drove on, ignoring his tantrum.

He turned towards the door and grabbed the handle and yanked. Honestly, he should have been thankful for Pete's earlier planning in buckling him in, otherwise they might have ended up with a road-killed merman.

“What the fuck, Patrick?!” Pete asked. He snatched Patrick back by his shirt collar, pulled him as far away from the door as possible, and then leaned past him to properly close to door, all the while trying to keep them from crashing.

“We're going over fifty miles and hour, do you wanna die?” he yelled crossly. His face was contorted in a weird rage Patrick had never seen before, which also frightened him and pissed him off all at once. Why was Pete the one getting pissed off?

“ _I want out,_ ” he signed, this time calmer and smaller than he had before. Pete glanced at him and sighed.

“You'll get out when we get home.” The anger had left his voice, leaving a resigned tone in its place.

“ _Please, for me, I want out,_ ” Patrick signed, doing it exactly like the book had taught him to. Be polite when asking for a favor. That's how you ask for something.

“We'll be home soon, Trick.”

Patrick stared at Pete. Maybe it was the use of his old nickname that made him want to do it. Maybe it was just the stress from everything that had happened. Or maybe he just didn't give a fuck anymore. Nevertheless the results were the same.

Putting on a brave face, he pulled against the seat belt until he realized it wouldn't allow him to sit forward enough for his plan. He unbuckled it, and then he leaned towards Pete, who was steadily still staring at the road. His lips were right there though, right within reach. It would be simple to just take a kiss from him.

His lips were nearly to Pete's when Pete suddenly turned his head and became startled by how close Patrick was. He yelped and placed a hand on Patrick's chest, intent on pushing him back into his seat. His other hand, the hand that was supposed to be driving, also jerked to the right.

The van lurched and veered sharply to the right, cutting through a lane of traffic and onto the shoulder. A car behind them honked and nearly took them out, just narrowly missing them at the last second.

Pete slammed on the brakes, probably harder than he intended to. He was held in place by his seat belt and his hand, still holding the steering wheel in a death grip.

Patrick wasn't as lucky. Despite the claustrophobic feeling the seat belt gave him, he now understood why it was so important. His body, free from the belt, was flung forward into the dash. His head cracked against the hard plastic of the CD player/radio, leaving blood running down his forehead and into his eyes.

“Shit! Goddammit!” Pete said. The sound of him wrestling with his own seat belt, or him trying to free himself, came to Patrick. “Patrick are you okay?! Hey!” Panic was overwhelming Pete's voice, drowning each syllable with a worry Patrick had never heard before.

He pushed himself up on unsteady arms, shaking from both pain and fear. And a hurt that had nothing to do with the almost wreck.

Pete had pushed him away. He'd gone to kiss him and he'd pushed him away. If he'd ever questioned Pete liking him before, well, now he had his answer he supposed.

“I'm sorry, Patrick. Are you okay? Hey, come on, look at me,” Pete said. He kept up his litany of apologies and questions about his well being but none of it mattered to him anymore.

His blue eyes met Pete's brown ones for one second, just a second, and he saw so much pain in them. Before Pete could even ask if he was okay again, he was gone.

He pried open the door and started running. His drunken state and aching body did nothing for his coordination, but he had a head start and desperation on his side and easily out ran Pete.

Pete's calls were drown out by the crashing of his feet through the trees and leaves, easily leaving him behind. He knew Pete'd managed to get out of the van when he'd heard some more crashing behind him.

The trees suddenly ended, giving way to paved roads and lights. Cars of all kind sped along, ignoring the crazy, sweaty guy at the side of the road. The crashing behind him got louder so he picked a direction, crossed his fingers, and hoped for the best as he shot across the street.

Where was he going to go now? Without Pete, Joe, or Andy, he really had nowhere to go or any idea how to get there. He wished he could talk to his friends, but there was no way he could get back home.

All he really wanted was to go back home. Screw trying to win a human's heart to be human. He'd rather go back home and enjoy Brendon, Travie, and Gabe's company than spend whatever time he had left alone in some human alley.

With his drunken mind made up he stumbled for the beach. He wasn't really sure which direction the pier actually was, but he knew if he walked in one direction for too long he'd probably hit the beach and could search from there. It seemed to be calling to him, urging him to come home.

He must have stumbled for over an hour through the city, the pier eventually coming into view. Briefly, he considered stopping there, saying good-bye to the first humans he ever officially met, but he kept on. The private beach near the pier was his goal and the sooner he got there the sooner he could get home.

His body ached. It was an odd ache, one brought on by heart ache, the wreck, walking around, being drunk and falling so much, and his just general feeling of being unwell because of the curse. All he wanted to do was lay down on his comfy bed in Pete's apartment but he knew that was out.

He scrambled his way across the rocks to get to the private beach. If he could just get there he could at least rest for a minute before deciding what his next move should be.

Since it was so late he doubted anyone would be out there to see him throwing the rocks (both human and merfolk), but he knew he had to try. He tossed the rocks into the water as far as he could, trying to make sure he got the pattern just perfect. He prayed to whoever was listening that someone, anyone, was still keeping watch for him. It had been a while since he had last been back, it was entirely possible they had stopped watching for him.

He threw rocks until it felt like he might throw his arm out of socket before he finally gave up and sank to the rocks. He'd promised Brendon he'd visit, come back and talk to him after he'd moved in with Pete, and he never did. It was hardly a wonder they'd stopped waiting for him. He would have.

He wrapped his arms around his aching body as he curled up on his side. The rocks were sharp and bit into his abused and sore body and all he wanted to do was cry and sleep. The water splashed against the rocks, splattering his cheeks and washing away his tears. It stung the scrapes on his body with salt, but he was too tired to care.

“Patrick?” Brendon whispered. But that wasn't right, Brendon wasn't ever coming back for him, and Patrick was going to die alone on the beach.

“Shit. What the fuck happened?” Brendon asked. Patrick could feel his hands running over his face, wiping tears and blood both away.

Patrick squeezed his eyes shut tighter. This wasn't real. There was no way, no possible way. He'd lost Pete, he'd lost all of his homes, and now he'd lost him too. 

“C'mon Trick, open your eyes. Please? C'mon,” he said. Brendon kept on encouraging Patrick, all while trying to clean him up. The salt from the water burned again, but it was comforting now, almost like home.

“What happened? Where's Pete?”

Just that one question was enough to set him off.

“ _Fuck P-E-T-E_!” he signed. Brendon clearly had no idea what the motions were after Patrick had flipped the bird, but he go the gist of it.

Patrick folded his sore arms back around himself and kept his eyes closed, his silent cries becoming a lot harder as the anger slid out of him.

It clearly must have slid right into Brendon, because anger was beginning to color his tone when he spoke. “Did he do this? Because I swear, I'll fucking drown him. I might not be a siren, but I can be pretty convincing.” He looked over Patrick, taking in the blood on his face, the bruises already beginning to form from the wreck, and the scratches from the bushes in his escape.

“ _I wanna come home,_ ” Patrick mouthed, ignoring his question. “ _Please, I wanna come home_.” He didn't even bother signing, as there would be no need since Brendon didn't understand it.

It took a few repeats before he knew Brendon understood him. “But what about being human?”

“ _I don't care. I hate everything._ ” He paused and looked Brendon right in the eyes. “ _He loves someone else. I'm dying and he loves someone else_.”

His alcohol filled stomach heaved at the unfairness of it all. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to fight against the sickness brewing there. He missed Brendon's concerned face, panic briefly overtaking everything about him.

“No, hey, c'mon now!” Brendon said, putting on a positive tone and attitude. Or trying to anyways. “Who wouldn't love you? I'm sure Pete does. And no, you can't be dying!”

He pulled himself free of the water enough to sit on the rock Patrick was laying on. It was rather sharp, already he could feel it pulling at his hard scales. He dreaded to know how it felt against Patrick's soft skin.

Brendon slid his arms under Patrick and pulled him into his lap. “Shit, Trick, when did you get so small?” Patrick had always been short, way shorter than Gabe, Travie, or Brendon, but he'd always been on the chubby side, giving him the round, soft look Brendon had come to know and love. While it had been almost impossible for him to tell when Patrick was laying against the rocks, it was easily noticeable while in his lap.

Patrick gave a weak shrug. He'd felt so terrible recently because of the curse and then worrying about Pete and then performing that he hadn't really been paying any attention to himself that way.

Brendon wrapped his arms tightly around Patrick and sat there until he began to get light headed. Gently, he laid Patrick back down and slid into the water.

“Do you want me to go and get Travis and Gabe?” he asked. He wasn't sure what good they could possibly be, but he knew they'd wanna see Patrick, just as surely as Patrick missed them.

He weakly shook his head. “ _Get Gerard_ ,” he mouthed. “ _I want to be a merman again. Get Gerard_.”

Brendon understood. Gerard was the only one who had ever seen anyone turn into a human before. He was also the one who had had the cursed bottle in the first place. Surely, he had some clue how to change Patrick back to a merman now that Patrick had expressed an interest in coming home.

Before Brendon could even nod, much less actually go and find Gerard, Patrick's eyes rolled back into this head. His limp body tensed up, jerking and spasming at odd times and directions. 

He seized harder, his convulsions nearly sending him into the ocean. If Brendon hadn't been there constantly pushing him back up, he probably would have drowned.

“Patrick! Trick!” Brendon yelled, not caring that he might attract humans. His friend needed help more help than Brendon could offer him.

His head was hitting the rocks, so Brendon shoved his arm under it. This made it harder to keep him up on the rocks and so much more likely for him to roll of into the water. Why the hell had he not asked anyone to come with him to meet Patrick? It would have probably been easier with two people trying to help Patrick, after all. 

He knew the reason though. He had been selfish. He'd wanted to spend some time with Patrick alone, because he had missed him. Before they had been best friends and it was fucking lonely without him around now. He knew that even if he swam the whole ocean, he'd never find another friend like Patrick again. 

So he'd come alone, hoping to be the first Patrick told everything to, like he had always done. Even back when they were younger and always getting into trouble, they'd always turned to each other first. There had been a childish, selfish part of him that had truly hoped Patrick had been as miserable as he had been without him, but not to this extent. He'd simply hoped he'd been lonely, not hurt!

Patrick's legs slid into the water, dragging the rest of his body down too. “Dammit! C'mon Trick please snap out of it!” Brendon yelled. He had two options and neither one of them sounded very good. Option one, he moved his arm out from under Patrick's head to grab his legs and get them out of the water. He would prevent him from drowning, but Patrick would more than likely brain himself on the rocks by the time he was done. Option two, he kept his arm where it was, and prayed that he stopped thrashing before he could fall the rest of the way down and drown.

Brendon went with this option. He kept one arm firmly under his head and used the other to try and push Patrick's chest up onto the rock. This led to some rather painful sounding bashes against the rocks and a few strong kicks to Brendon's tail. Still he held on, hoping it would end soon.

Someone must have been listening out there because it ended shortly after that. Patrick's body went from as tense as a kite string to limp and lifeless in a second. He slid the rest of the way off of the rocks, causing a startled yelp from Brendon. His arms were sore and tired, but he still made sure to keep Patrick's head above water as he caught him.

“You're okay, hey look, you're fine. See, everything's good!” Brendon said, words falling off of his lips without even thinking about them. He hoped Patrick could hear him and that he was reassured. That he knew someone who cared was there with him.

Despite the exhaustion in his muscles, Brendon forced himself to haul both Patrick and himself back up on the rocks. He inspected Patrick's body carefully, noticing, to his disappointment, that there were already even more bruises on the visible parts of his body and a bit of blood on the back of his head.

“You're okay, you're good, you're fine...” He wasn't sure if he was saying those words for Patrick's benefit or his own.

Now that Patrick was back up on the rocks and safe (or as safe as he could be) Brendon finally let the panic over take him. His heart and mind were a war ground for panic and sadness, both battling and causing him to lose.

He didn't want this anymore. No more wondering where Patrick was, if he was okay or worrying that the curse would finally get him or any of the other millions of things that could go wrong while he was away on land so far from home.

He missed his best friend. Like he'd thought earlier, before all of this had started he and Patrick were inseparable. It was almost unheard of for them to be apart for longer than a few hours. Now he'd been gone nearly a month and he comes stumbling up onto the beach... broken.

He wanted to go and get Gerard right then and there, but he didn't. If he left then there would be no one to watch over Patrick and if Patrick had another attack when no one was around... 

He shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn't been there. He would have lost his best friend... 

He closed his eyes and regretted it. All he could see was Patrick flopping like a fish out of water (and the irony wasn't lost on Brendon), with his eyes rolling up and gasping like there wasn't enough air in the world. 

Brendon glided back into the water, hoping that it would allow him to get his own breathing back to normal. The urge to throw up was strong but he steeled himself against it. He couldn't stay up on the rocks with Patrick, but he did reach up and hold his hands.

That's when he allowed himself to cry.


	17. Home Is Where The Cinnamon Rolls Are

The sound of gentle waves crashing woke Patrick up. It was a soothing sound, familiar and yet foreign at the same time. The birds cawing over head also reminded him of the beach back home, their familiar calls almost luring him back to sleep.

“Patrick,” Brendon asked. His voice was soft and unsure, nothing like the Brendon he knew.

He scrunched his brow in confusion, debating whether or not he should actually open his eyes. He wanted to see what was worrying Brendon, yet he was in so much pain.

His head was aching as if someone had took a pair of drum cymbals and banged everything around in there. His limbs were stiff and sore, as if he'd ran up and down the wet, sandy beach all night. In general, his body just fucking hurt.

The dim, early morning skies were above him when he managed to crack his eyes open. A splashing sound came from the left of him and then Brendon's face appeared.

Relief was obvious as he reached out to pull Patrick into a hug. “Thank you, thank you,” Brendon muttered gratefully to someone who wasn't there. “Patrick you're okay.”

What the hell was he doing here? And why was Brendon here? How had he even manged to get to the beach? He opened his mouth to ask any of these questions, but the only sound that came out was a gasp of pain at his hug.

Hearing it, Brendon placed him back onto the rock, taking extra care with his head. Which was a very good thing, as Patrick assumed it would have otherwise exploded.

“Sorry, I'm just so glad you're awake,” he said. He wiped what looked like tears from his eyes. “I thought you weren't ever going to wake up.”

What ever had happened must have been serious if it was enough to make Brendon cry. Which only served to make Patrick more worried and more confused.

“ _What happened_?” he asked.

Brendon gave him a confused look of his own, still wiping tears away. “I don't know. It was really late last night and someone said there was a person throwing rocks in your pattern. When I got here you were crying and angry and bleeding...” He paused to take a steadying breath. “You said you wanted to come home and for me to go get Gerard, but before I could...” He stopped again, his voice trembling and tears falling again. “You just started twitching and flopping and you almost rolled into the water and I couldn't get you to stop.” He ran his fingers over Patrick's knuckles. “It went on forever, but when you finally stopped you still wouldn't wake up. I didn't want to leave you by yourself though so I stayed here all night.”

Patrick shook his aching head. “ _Not safe!_ ” he tried to protest.

“Well, it would've been worse to leave you here alone!” he yelled, then flinched. It was clear the noise had not helping Patrick any, and he was finally realizing the very real threat of being seen by humans. It was still too early for swimmers but joggers and passing boats were usually still out.

“What happened to you last night, Patrick?” he asked, much calmer than before. “Did something happen with Pete?”

Patrick allowed his eyes to slide close as he thought about it. What had happened? He remembered playing the show, the great electric feeling the crowd had gave him, how he literally felt like he could have flown if he had so wished. He remembered wanting to find Pete to share this amazing feeling and moment with and not being able to find him and then...

Oh no. The contents of Patrick's stomach twisted uncomfortably as he thought of Pete kissing the pretty girl back stage. He'd been so upset and had somehow ran into whatever his name was.

The rest came back in fumbling waves. Did he kiss their singer? Was that who he could remember nuzzling his neck or had it been Pete as well? Had their singer even showed up or had Joe sang? No, he remembered Alex- yes, that was his name- clearly being there. He could also remember the burning feeling of the fire trickling down his throat and angry yells. There had been kind words and helpful arms as someone had tried to get him home. The weird feeling of random “fuck all” confidence of trying to kiss Pete after their fight.

Then he remembered the pain, and not just from the almost wreck. Pete had pushed him away. Patrick had made it clear that he wanted to kiss Pete, and he'd been pushed away. He was probably disgusted, after all, he'd had no problem kissing that pretty girl before. He'd took one look at Patrick and thought 'gross, the dude must be easy, he goes from making out with Alex and now me.' Pete didn't even know Patrick was gay for Poseidon's sake.

“ _I fucked up,_ ” he mouthed. He raised a shaking hand to his throat, trying to remember if the memory of Pete mouthing encouragements against his neck during the show had been real or not.

“Did the kiss not work?” Brendon asked.

Patrick scrunched his brow. “ _We didn't kiss_ ,” he mouthed, shaking his head.

“You didn't kiss?” he asked. Patrick shook his head again. “Sorry, I just assumed with all those hickies on your neck.”

Patrick's eyes shot open, both of his hands going to his neck now. “ _What!?_ ”

Brendon also looked a little shocked. “Yeah, it looks like a sucker fish got stuck to your neck.” 

Well at least now Patrick knew for sure that had happened. He hadn't been entirely sure he had made out with Alex or not.

“ _They're not Pete's_ ,” he mouthed.

“Not Pete's,” Brendon asked. “Then who the fuck's are they?”

It would be too long and way too difficult to explain without words. If Brendon knew sign it might have been different but as the case stood right then it was just too much. “ _A guy's._ ”

Brendon stared at Patrick, Disbelief covered his face as he tried to regain Patrick's attention that was now on the sky. “What happened to you, Trick? You've lost a lot of weight and you're kissing people when you're supposed to be winning Pete and what even was that that happened to you last night? I thought you were dying!”

Neither one of them points out that Patrick was dying. Every second he spent as a human without true love's kiss was a second closer he was to death. Instead they sat there for a moment until Brendon spoke.

“Do you want me to go and get Gerard?” he asked. 

Patrick considered it for a moment before nodding. He'd already screwed everything up while being a human, he might as well come home where he might do some good again. 

“Okay. I'll be right back. You just stay right here and I'll go get him,” Brendon said. He dove into the water and with a flash of his tail he was gone.

Gratefulness flooded Patrick's system. Soon he'd be back home and he wouldn't be in pain anymore. He'd be able to swim and sing and communicate with people who didn't always have to ask “what?” or ask someone like Pete to interpret all of his answers for everyone else. He'd be independent again, could get his own meals, and go where ever he wanted again....

The sun was just beginning to color the sky in the distance. The navy blue was being replaced by a pale purple with pretty pink stripes running through it. It was beautiful, and if it was one of the last things Patrick got to witness above water then he was happy.

A noise came from behind him suddenly, like rocks scraping against each other. He tensed and sat up fully, his abused body almost toppling over into the water. Faster than was probably healthy, he whipped his head around, finally seeing who or what was behind him.

“So it is you,” Hayley said. She gasped when she saw Patrick's face, swollen and bruised from the night before. The rocks skittered away as she tried to move as fast as possible over them to get to him. “Some people said they saw you stumbling by on the beach last night in this direction.”

Her hands reached out to gently cup Patrick's face, moving it gingerly this way and that to see it better in the pale light. “What happened?” she asked. “It looks like you've been beaten.”

Patrick shrugged, barely even remembering the near wreck they had suffered that night. Faintly, he could recall hitting the dash with his face, explaining the bruises and pains he was feeling on it.

Soft eyes met his. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

He was really getting tired of people asking him that question.

Again Patrick shrugged. He was relatively fine now; the main thing that hurt was his pride and his heart. “I just wanna go home,” he mouthed.

She reached over and pulled him into a hug. “Here, I'll take you home. Where ever you wanna go,” she said. Her hands were gently pulling him up, hoping to get him back on his feet. All he could do was shake his head. She couldn't help him get where he wanted to go anyways.

Hayley paused and sat back down. “Did... did someone do this to you?” she asked. Gone was her loud and brash attitude and in its place was a very concerned and caring girl. “Cause I promised I'd kick his ass if he did anything to take advantage of you.”

Patrick shook his head again. Pete hadn't done anything to him except not love him back. He could hardly blame him for it after all. Pete had pointed out all the things wrong, that he had kept hidden. Just because it was the truth didn't make it hurt any less.

“ _Pete didn't do it,_ ” he mouthed. He refused to place blame where it didn't belong. “ _I-I just wanna go home._ ”

Again Hayley tried to pulled him up. “Well c'mon. I'll take you.”

Patrick shook his head and tried to stay seated. He had no plans to leave, but then he caught sight of Brendon and Gerard in the water. Both of them were swimming towards the shore, completely unaware of the extra human standing on the rocks.

There was no way in hell he was going to let his friends get caught, even if it was by someone as nice as Hayley. But still, he wanted to go home...

He could last one more day he supposed. One more day and then he'd come back and finally go home.

Sighing, he allowed himself to be pulled up onto wobbly and broken feeling legs. Soreness and cramps over took them, reminding him of when he'd first learned to walk but worse.

“Whoa there,” Hayley said, catching him before he could fall over. “Dude you reek of alcohol,” she added as a side note.

He cast one last look at the water just in time to see Brendon and Gerard dive back down below. Thankfully, Hayley missed it.

The walk back to Hayley's car was torture. Fire burned in every step he took and he was almost trembling too bad to walk. Once the reached the beach Hayley actually called one of her homeless friends over to help Patrick to the car, as it was obvious that she wouldn't be able to get him there alone.

He gave as few directions to Pete's place as possible. He'd hoped that if he was terrible enough then Hayley would just give up and kick him out, but that never happened. Instead she drove calmly, even asking if she needed to stop so Patrick could get his bearings. He never agreed to it and it only took them ten minutes longer than it should have to get him to Pete's place.

When Hayley asked which apartment he needed to get to, Patrick signed and pointed to the one on the second story in the corner. Her brows pull down, tugging her face into a worried shape. Hayley might have the determination of a raging bull, but even she had her limitations. There was no way she'd be able to pull Patrick up those stairs by herself, even with his short stature and his recent and frankly unnatural loss of weight. 

“Wait here a second,” she said. She undid her seat belt and slid out of her car, looking around the lot for someone to help her. No sooner had she stepped out and shielded her eyes from the sun then Pete stepped out the door.

His eyes widened as he saw Hayley standing there. He'd been drying his hands on a dish towel, which he quickly tossed over his shoulder and into the apartment. In a flash, he was down the stairs and sprinting to Hayley's car.

“Is this really where you meant to go?” she asked Patrick. “Did you really wanna come here? To Pete?” Patrick, whose eyes were watching Pete with a flat, dead look, could only shrug. 

Hayley gave a nod. She stepped away from her car and shut the door. She held up her keys, and Patrick could hear the _click click_ of her doors locking in place. Her whole demeanor seemed to change as she walked towards Pete, taking on all the courage of a mama bear ready to maul the first threat to her cub.

Pete slowed down, a nervous look on his face. Clearly he'd heard her lock the door as well. He tried to lean around her to get a better look at Patrick, but he slumped down in the seat while Hayley stepped in his line of sight. Her arms were crossed, showing that in this moment she meant business.

“Is he okay?” Pete asked. His voice was tight and weak. He looked like he hadn't slept at all last night with his hair all over the place and lacking it's usual shine. Brown eyes, that were usually glimmering now only shined with unshed tears, otherwise they were dead and flat.

Everything about him screamed _worried_ and _scared_.

“I don't know, Pete, you tell me,” she said harshly. She refused to take pity on him, especially when it could all be an act. She'd met plenty of great actors while trying to rescue some of her homeless friends. This wouldn't be the first person who claimed to care when they were secretly the problem.

His face contorted in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked.

She uncrossed her arms. “I mean, why did I find him alone, hungover, and looking like he'd been hit by a fucking train this morning on the beach? And apparently he's been there all night!”

Pete refused to rise to her bait, not wanting her to get the idea he was a big, angry, idiot. “We almost wrecked last night on the way home from our show. He slammed into the dash, and then he ran off. I couldn't find him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “He ran away? The dude can barely stand!”

Again he tried to lean around her. “Just tell me, is he okay?”

“Why would he run away?” she asked, ignoring him.

A hint of something passed over Pete's face. “I don't know. He was drunk and confused,” he said. It was clear to Hayley that he was hiding something, but she let that part go.

She sighed, her whole body seeming to deflate. “He's not great. I'm not kidding when I said he looks like he's been hit by a train. He's got bruises and scratches all over and he can barely stand. He's also got hickies on his neck, which better not be connected to all this other stuff.” Pain and regret crossed over his face, but no guilt, she noticed. “And what happened to him? He look so much thinner than the last time I saw him. Even his face looks thinner.”

Pete stilled. He hadn't really noticed Patrick had been losing weight, but now that he thought about it, that was weird. When he had first come to live with Pete he'd been rounder and soft, the perfect body type to cuddle up to while watching movies on the couch. Now even from the glance he could see from Hayley's window he could see the difference. How had he truly not noticed before? If he was eating better and more often than when he was homeless, then why was he so sick looking?

“I don't know,” Pete admitted, his voice cracking. “I'll take him to the doctor soon, though. Right now if he'll get out of the car,” he vowed.

None of this really seemed to set Hayley at ease. She glanced back at Patrick, who gave her a watery smile, and sighed. _Clicks_ filled the otherwise silent parking lot as she unlocked the car door. “Help me get him upstairs,” she said.

The journey up was even worse than the first time back when Patrick was still getting used to his land legs. More than once he had to be grabbed to prevent him, and potentially someone else, from spilling down the stairs.

Pete pushed opened the door and led Patrick inside. Then, without any help, Patrick managed to stumble his way to his room. He used the walls as supposed the whole way, his shaking so strong that Pete and Hayley feared he would fall. Patrick was determined to get to this room by himself though, and he did.

Hayley opened her mouth to say something but stopped. She closed it and then reopened it. “Don't make me regret bringing him back to you, Pete. I swear, I'm not even joking when I say I'll make you rue the day you ever met that boy if you hurt him.”

XXX

Pete heaved a sigh as Hayley left. The microwave in the kitchen beeped, letting him know the time was up on the cinnamon rolls he had been cooking. The vegetarian bacon had already shriveled up into almost nothing during his talk with Hayley and was now threatening to set fire to the apartment.

Resignedly, he took the cinnamon rolls out and tossed the bacon in the trash. He fired off a text to Andy to let him know Patrick had made it home. He'd been by Pete's side all night trying to reassure him everything was going to be okay and that Patrick was fine. About an hour ago he'd started to fade though, causing Pete to send him home for some sleep.

Joe had tried to come over, but Pete wouldn't let him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't still angry at Joe for going behind his back and contacting Ashlee. And more than once none the less. He knew he couldn't stay mad at Joe, but he enjoyed feeling in the right for it as long as he could. Andy'd remarked on that fact as he'd left. 

“Be pissed at him for that, I get it, but don't get pissed at him for any of this.”

And Pete wasn't. He knew what had happened in the van had been _his_ fault and no one else's. He was the one who had brought Alex in to play with them, he was the one who'd failed to keep a better eye on Patrick while they were at the club. He was the one who'd pushed him away...

It had just been a reaction though! He'd just turned his head and _bam!_ Patrick's face had been there, his body leaned all the way over until he was almost in Pete's seat, his lips pressed out slightly as if he was asking for a kiss.

Panic was the only reasonable reaction.

He'd pushed Patrick away, not expecting anything to be in his face when he looked at him. Pete couldn't kiss him, really he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to anyone, least of all Patrick...

Patrick had been drunk. Way too drunk to even know what he was doing, way too drunk to consent to anyone kissing him. Alex had already broken that rule that night, and all Pete had wanted to do was get Patrick home so he could sleep it off and forget that everything had happened.

All he had _really_ wanted to do was kiss him though.

You'd have to be an idiot to not see the way Pete had looked and acted towards Patrick on stage. It had went way far past the point of “stage gay” as some people in the scene had taken to calling it, and it went head first into straight up “gay”. Which didn't bother Pete at all. He'd accepted a long time ago that he liked a range of people, some of them boys, some of them girls, some of them stuck on the fence in between deciding, and he'd never really minded that.

What he did mind was the fact that it was _Patrick_. And he was _drunk_. Even Pete, who used to do nothing but make out in dive bars, knew that kissing someone while you were drunk was not a good way to start a true relationship with, and that's exactly what Pete wanted to do.

Despite all the evidence against it, Pete knew Patrick was the one who had saved him. Knew with every fiber of his being that it had been Patrick's voice that night on the beach as he'd laid dying and waiting for someone else to come along and help. There was no way anyone else on the planet could have those strange colored eyes that seemed to reflect every single color of the _Starry Night_. He knew that it was Patrick's voice he'd been hearing at the pier every time he threw a bottle in the water. He _knew_ because some of the beats and tunes Patrick had changed his songs to fit those lyrics, made the songs that already had those lyrics better. And they _matched_. There was so much proof for him being the same siren Song singer that he'd heard before that it would be even crazier to believe it had been anyone else.

Maybe Pete's brain had concocted the whole “merman” thing out of nothing. Storytelling was one of the things he was good at, and it wouldn't be the first time that he'd had some strange dream or hallucination while he was overdosing. Maybe he'd seen the scars on Patrick's leg and imagined the reason behind it being something fantastical like him being a merman battling fisherman's hooks. And the fin he'd saw that night when Patrick had pulled him from the water had just been a blanket or a towel that had gotten wrapped around his legs. The voice he'd imagine coming from the ocean was probably Patrick chilling on a boat or under the pier and singing. People lose their voices all the time too, there were plenty of stories about people losing their voices randomly in the middle of the night, just like their sight and hearing. It wouldn't be so unreasonable for something like that to have happened to Patrick.

How could he start a relationship with the person who had literally saved his life, who he might actually love, with a drunken kiss? He didn't want to be just another Alex to Patrick. Somehow he wanted to show him, needed to show him, that he could be better than that for him.

He'd be the first person to admit that he hadn't been the best boyfriend to Ashlee, or to any of his exes really, but he knew that he could be better for Patrick. Taking off without calling, ignoring them for days on end just because he couldn't seem to find the right words or actions to say to anyone much less the person he was supposed to be in love with, not to mention the fights where he would turn their own fears on them. These were just some of the past mistakes he'd made with them that he swore if he got a chance with Patrick he wouldn't make.

He wouldn't try to get things to go fast. Patrick seemed like the type of person who preferred things to go slower anyways, drunken make out sessions aside. They'd progress slowly, with honest discussions as to what was really bothering them. There would be no guaranteeing it, but he made the silent vow that if he somehow managed to get Patrick to love him back then he wouldn't shut himself off from the world anymore. He'd make sure he took the correct amount of medications. He'd do all the stupid self-help things his therapist had mentioned the last night he went. Hell, he'd even start going back if it meant he could help himself be better for him.

Pete felt as if all of this were some weird test of fate. If he could prove himself to be the kind of guy that all of his exes had needed, then he might be half the guy Patrick deserved. Even the kiss on Ashlee's cheek had been a test of wills against himself. If he could kiss Ashlee on the cheek and not feel anything or not make her feel anything then he would know he was over her for good, too. 

Admittedly, he didn't think Patrick would see, had never intended for him to see, but by seeing his reaction Pete also had his answer. There must have been some feelings deeper than friendship by the heartbroken look he'd seen on his face as he'd ran away.

He debated contacting Joe to let him know Patrick had come home but finally decided against it. It was a small, petty revenge to think of him still driving around looking for Patrick and wasting gas in that big dumb van. Besides, Andy would knew Pete well enough to know to text Joe. If he was even still up that was.

The apartment now had a faintly burnt, sweet smell to it that disgusted Pete. He'd been planning this great, big, welcome home breakfast to say he was sorry for yelling at Patrick, but it hadn't exactly turned out the way he had planned. The bacon was burned, the cinnamon rolls looked too lumpy, doughy, and yet crunchy to be right, and Patrick wasn't even in here to enjoy it.

Sighing again, he slathered icing on the cinnamon rolls anyway and prepared a tray to take in to Patrick. It seemed he would be getting breakfast in bed today.

The door to Patrick's room was already open when he got there. Low light from the hallway and the bedroom window cast the room in a soft, dreamy color of blue, barely illuminating the body curled up on the bed.

Apparently, Patrick had been too tired to properly undress before flopping into bed. All of his clothes were dirty and sand caked, including his boots, which were also soiling the sheets. Pete knew he should probably make Patrick change before going to sleep, he'd be much more comfortable that way after all, but he'd seen how hard it had been for him to get up the stairs and knew he was probably exhausted.

“Patrick,” Pete said softly. The lump on the bed gave no sign it had even heard him. “I made you breakfast. You've gotta eat, and I know you must be starving.”

A moment passed and then the lump rolled over, revealing Patrick's worn out face. There didn't seem to be any pain or even annoyance in the look, just pure fatigue taking over his whole being. A strange feeling came over Pete, like he'd seen that expression before, maybe even worn it.

“It's cinnamon rolls,” Pete said around the lump in his throat. “You'll love them. They're super sweet.” He tried to seem as upbeat as possible, but acting had never really been in Pete's forte before. Patrick had loved everything sweet, especially the breakfast foods. His favorite had been pancakes, but Pete was pretty sure that he would love the cinnamon rolls too. 

Patrick blinked but didn't move. The fact that he didn't roll back over encouraged Pete to step into the room, placing the tray on the bedside table. The bed dipped as he st down next to Patrick, who ignored that he was even there.

“Want me to help you sit up so you can eat?” he asked. He expected Patrick to ignore him again, to give him the cold shoulder and never want to see him again, but he surprised him by nodding his head. He unwrapped his arms from himself and began to try and sit up on his own. Once it became obvious he wouldn't be able to do it himself, Pete leaned over and helped to prop him up by the head board.

A brief nod was the only thanks he got. Pete brought the tray closer to them, pulling the legs out on it so it could be across Patrick's lap without actually touching him. They snacked on the cinnamon rolls without even making eye contact, almost like they could forget that the other was there if he tried hard enough. Or at least that's what Pete figured Patrick was doing anyways.

Pete's brain had other ideas. Instead of blocking Patrick out it was as if he was hyper focused only on him. His eyes caught everything, from Patrick's shaking hands to his lolling head, to the bruises and scratches visible on his body. Someone should probably look at all of them, or at least clean them, but he could tell Patrick was practically falling asleep right in front of him. After about the sixth time he dropped part of his cinnamon roll Pete decided to call it quits.

“How about you get some sleep, okay?” Pete said, still just as soft as earlier. Blue eyes blinked in confusion before he understood and nodded. He basically slumped over until it was enough to be considered a “laying” position. Almost instantly his breathing dropped to that of the sleeping.

Pete sighed again. He had no clue what he was going to do but he was way too fucking tired for all of this.

Grabbing the tray, he walked into the kitchen, tossed the tray somewhat recklessly onto the counter, and promptly walked to the couch and passed out too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this last night but the election stressed me out too much to type. Please stay safe out there and remember, you can always reach me over at my tumblr (ahyperactivehero) if you feel like you need to talk.


	18. I Wanna Scream I Love You From The Top Of My Lungs (Too Bad I Can't)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I was a little late getting this out, I made it all little bit longer than I usually do. Hope you enjoy!

An indeterminable amount of time later and Pete heard someone knocking on his door. Temptation was daring him to ignore it, hoping that whoever was out there would go away so he could sleep.

The knock got louder and harder to ignore.

Pete groaned as he forced himself off of the couch. When he flung open his door he expected to see a startled girl scout who he could say “no thanks” to and send on her way. What he hadn't expected was Joe Trohman standing there with the saddest, most apologetic look on his face ever and a _The Little Mermaid_ DVD clutched between his hands. He blinked and took in Andy standing behind him.

“I told him this was a bad idea,” he said.

“What was a bad idea?” Pete asked, still confused. It was obvious to everyone that he'd just woken up, even though it was almost four in the afternoon. Not that anyone had gotten much sleep last night anyways.

“Well,” Joe said, side stepping Pete and coming in, even though Pete hadn't invited him. “I know it's one of your favorites and you and Andy are practically always going on about mermaids in the ocean,” Pete refused to point out that he had only ever claimed there was one, and it was a merman, “and Stump said he'd never seen it before, so I figured we'd watch _The Little Mermaid_.”

To anyone who didn't know Joe he probably looked pretty confident right then, like he knew Pete had already forgiven him so it was all good. But Pete did know him, and he could clearly see that he was nervous. All Pete had to do was say “get out” and Joe would leave no problem. Yet, despite how pissed he still was, he let him stay.

“He's still asleep,” Pete said, which hadn't been a 'no', so Joe relaxed.

“Not anymore,” Andy said from behind Pete.

Both Pete and Joe turned towards the hall. A flash of reddish, dirty blonde hair was barely visible around the door frame, Patrick peeking in while holding on for support.

“Stump!” Joe said cheerfully, taking care to not be too loud in case he had a hangover. “Do you wanna come watch _The Little Mermaid_ with us?”

Any movie with 'mermaid' in the title would have been of interest to Patrick, but this one in particular would at least explain Joe and Andy's habit of referring to him as that on occasion.

A small nod was given, although he held up a finger for them to wait. The door closed, only to reopen a few minutes later with a pajama clad Patrick walking in, curled up in a blanket. No matter how tight he made his cocoon he was still cold.

Pete walked past him, muttering something about changing the sheets and starting laundry. He walked into Patrick's bedroom, shouting over his shoulder for them to start without him. There were too many commercials anyways. He gathered up the dirty sheets and clothes and tossed them in the wash.

When he walked back in to the living room the movie was just beginning. Patrick, at Joe and Andy's insistence, was laying down on the couch, the only part of him actually visible was his face sticking out of the blanket. Joe was sitting in front of the couch in the floor, talking a mile a minute.

“This used to be my favorite movie when I was a kid, ya know?” he glanced at Patrick. “We look about the same age, it's a little weird you've never seen it.” Before Pete could shake his head no, don't take things in that direction, Joe was already moving on. “Like how'd you make it through your childhood without a crush on Ariel? Even straight girls get crushes on Ariel!”

Andy snorted as he walked back in carrying popcorn. “Straight girls have Prince Eric to chase after. And please stop lusting over Disney cartoon characters. It's weird, okay? Be normal and hide it.”

Joe rolled his eyes and looked at Pete for encouragement. “It's normal to like Ariel, right? She's smart, redheaded, and she can sing like crazy.” He gave a rather pointed look at Pete. “You liked her growing up, I know you did.”

Pete glanced around, wondering where he should sit down in his own apartment. Andy had one of the only chairs good enough to sit and watch a long movie in, and Patrick was currently laying across the couch.

As if sensing his dilemma, Patrick tucked his knees to his chest to make room for Pete. Pete smiled gratefully, but Patrick kept his gaze straight ahead on the TV.

If Patrick was honest, the opening made him want to laugh. They didn't have a real King Triton under the sea, although there were some who worshiped him like some did Poseidon. Real mermaids also didn't wear seashells as bras, which would have been extremely uncomfortable. In fact, they didn't really wear anything, or they'd wear old human shirts that had drifted far from shore. Add in the fact that the old man called merfolk “nautical nonsense” it was all humorous to him. The castle was absolutely ridiculous, as well as the idea that fish could talk.

All the talk about Ariel's “beautiful voice” also gave him mixed feelings. Before all this started he wouldn't have thought twice about it, but now it left a bad taste in his mouth. Andy cast a glance at Patrick and then at Joe, as if implying he knew this movie might not have been a good idea.

If Patrick were going to compare himself to anyone in the movie it probably would have been Flounder, with Brendon easily being the curious Ariel of them. Up until Pete's letters he'd been pretty content to ignore the human world as a whole, only interacting with them when he was called to enchant them away from his people. In fact, it had been on one of Brendon's first challenges that he had found Pete's first bottle.

The way Ariel even argued with Triton against going to the surface sounded like Brendon. Gabe and Travie both had expressed concerns for him more than once in the past, and now with Patrick gone he could only imagine they had gotten worse.

Patrick was ashamed that he was hooked on the movie by the time Ariel sang her first song. Seeing her collection of human things in her own private sanctuary reminded him of his bottles full of lyrics back home. Her genuine curiosity about the humans who lived up above the water was so relatable he wanted to cry.

“I can definitely see the Prince Eric thing,” Joe said a few scenes later, which caused Andy to snort. Patrick sadly admitted in his head that Eric's eyebrows and dark hair sort of reminded him of Pete and that definitely helped his case.

No one said a word through out Eric's near-death by drowning scene. Even Joe was tight lipped during the whole scene. Yet another way Eric reminded him of Pete.

Pete gave Patrick a side-eyed look when Eric woke up talking about a girl with an amazing voice who saved him. Patrick returned the look. A small smile came over Pete's lips, which Patrick tried to return. It was really more of a twitching of the lips, but it was enough for Pete.

By the time Triton confronted Ariel in her safe place Patrick had sat up. The blanket was still wrapped around him, and he leaned forward, completely engrossed. Andy, Joe, and Pete watched him as he gasped at the scene playing out on the TV. Triton's voice boomed and destroyed Ariel's stuff, causing him to jump back into Pete.

Pete slid an arm over the back of the couch resting a little ways away from Patrick's back. If Patrick leaned back he could almost be cuddling with him. He wasn't sure he was quite ready for that though, so Patrick stayed leaning forward. Joe patted his knee in comfort, leaning back against the couch until he was brushing against his knees.

Out of all the differences between the movie and his life as a merman the thing he found funniest was how Ariel turned into a human. Ursula was clearly not a good person and definitely not someone you should trust with this kind of thing. Gerard, on the other hand, was weird and kind of antisocial, but nice. He hadn't wanted to hurt Patrick like Ursula wanted to hurt Ariel. The fact that Ariel would even make a deal with someone like that was ridiculous to him.

He shuddered when Ariel changed into a human. That way, however, was too close to his for his comfort. It reminded him of his pain, his sudden lack of breath at the bottom of the ocean, the place that was supposed to be home. Pete actually did place his hand on Patrick's shoulder and drew him near that time.

He watched as Ariel and Eric went on a date. They danced out in the street, and Patrick had to wonder if her feet had hurt half as bad as his did when he had transformed. They must have not if she could dance like that. He couldn't stop the small smile that formed as he watched the two dance. It was honestly a cute date, even with everyone asking if they had kissed yet.

A blush spread across Patrick's face at the boat scene. Joe and Andy were quietly singing along to the song, briefly explaining this was perhaps the most well known part of the whole movie. He'd expected Pete to be goofing around and singing too when he glanced at him, but he wasn't. His face was serious and his eyes were steadily not looking at Patrick. When he finally turned to look at him he managed a sincere smile.

“Don't worry,” Pete said lowly so as not to be overheard by the other two in the room. Patrick felt a shiver go down his spine at the closeness of everything about Pete. “We'll work on finding you a Prince Eric.” 

Patrick wanted to tell him, “ _But I've already found him,_ ” but he didn't. Flotsam and Jetsam knocked the boat over and his attention was back on the TV.

Through the rest of the movie Patrick could feel himself slowly settling down next to Pete, making a comfy spot in his side. In response, Pete draped his arm even further around Patrick until he was practically squishing him up against his side. Patrick rearranged the blankets so they were also covering Pete, allowing for a bit more warmth inside. The shivering continued, but at a much less drastic rate.

When the end came he found himself so warm he hardly wanted to move. His brain began to drift and his eyes began to close. Pressed up against Pete like this felt right, like there should never have been another way to sleep.

“So how'd you like the movie?” Joe asked, popping the DVD out. He turned just in time to see Patrick raise two, sleepy thumbs up, his smile just as sleepy and dazed.

“Why don't you put in another movie?” Pete suggested. His arms circled around Patrick tighter as he adjusted his position. Sliding down a little bit allowed him to place his feet on the coffee table and have Patrick practically laying on his chest. Patrick went with him, not caring that he was being moved as long as he could stay warmly squished up against Pete.

Joe, seeing how relaxed and contented both of them looked led him to pick another one.

Patrick was asleep before the opening credits finished.

XXXX

Weak, watery light filtered into the living room. The couch beneath him shifted up and down in a comforting rhythm, almost lulling him back to sleep.

Why was he so tired? Geeze, he's just woke up and he'd yet to do anything. There was absolutely no reason why he should be as tired as he was.

He was almost back to sleep, that drifting floating feeling coming back to him, ready to take him away to dreamland again, when the couch snored. No, not the couch. The thing on the couch he was laying on _top_ of.

Reluctantly, he cracked open his eyes again, taking in the tanned chest he was laying on top of. Two tattooed arms were wrapped securely around him, even in sleep, holding him firmly in place and keeping the blanket wrapped around him.

For a moment, just a moment, Patrick considered moving. It wasn't right to lay on someone like this when you had a huge crush on them and you knew that they didn't return the feeling. That wasn't fair to either party.

Yet he was tired. And cold, to the point he was shivering. And Pete was also tired. And warm, to the point he was sweating. What harm could a little longer cause?

The toilet down the hall flushed. Joe's voice was loud in the silent apartment, despite the fact that he was whispering to Andy.

“Should we wake them up?” Joe asked. The sound of his feet shuffling across the floor came to Patrick's ears, comforting white noise that soothed him.

Patrick could practically hear Andy considering. “I don't know. They both look so exhausted. Maybe we should let them sleep a little longer?”

Warm arms clutched him tighter for a second, pulling him even closer against Pete's chest. It should have been obvious to him that Pete would be a clingy sleeper. His day-time persona was already clingy as it was.

Hot breaths moved Patrick's hair, the feeling practically moving down his spine. He was caught in a weird state between wanting to fall back asleep and stay awake for every second of this encounter.

Lips smacked in his ear, and Pete wiggled beneath him. “What time is it?” he asked groggily.

“It's only about nine,” Joe said. His voice got closer to the couch. He must have been standing right over them now. “Do you want us to stay?”

Patrick could feel the way Pete's body tensed, clearly having an internal debate about whatever was going on. “I think he's going to be out for a while. Do you guys wanna come back over later though?”

“We'll be back,” Andy confirmed. “Get some more sleep yourself.” Pete nodded, which felt weird to Patrick. It moved his body at an odd angle, bouncing him awkwardly.

Once the door closed behind them Pete snaked a hand up to the back of Patrick's head, gently scratching his scalp and running his fingers through his short hair.

“What the hell?” Pete asked after a few minutes. The scratching on the back of his head disappeared, replaced by probing, anxious fingers. “Is that dried blood?” he muttered under his breath.

Sitting up, he pried his fingers through his hair, trying to discover where the blood had come from. Fingers brushed against a particularly tender spot on his scalp, causing him to flinch.

“Hey, I'm sorry. Just let me get a better look at this, okay?” Pete asked. He craned his neck to see as much as he could without pushing Patrick completely off of his lap. “When did this happen? Did you know you had blood on the back of your head?”

Patrick shrugged. No, he hadn't known, but that certainly would explain why his head felt like it had been busted open in the back.

“Can you sit up for a second? I just wanna check this out,” Pete said.

Slowly, Patrick lifted himself off of Pete. Faintly, he wondered how long he had literally been lying face down on Pete's chest for, and if he had bothered Pete by doing so.

His arms shook as he used them to push himself the rest of the way up. Shivers racked his body despite it not actually being that cold in the apartment. It was so tempting to just lay back down on top of Pete ad enjoy how absolutely warm he was.

Pete wasn't having any of that though. Hands found Patrick's shoulders and helped steady him, gently removing the blanket from him as well. Dark brown eyes took in everything there was to see, from the cut on his forehead, the bruises that were visible on his arms and legs where his clothes rode up, and, most embarrassingly, the hickies on his neck. It seemed as if his eyes had rested on those the longest.

“You must have hit your head somehow. Maybe when I hit the brakes?” Pete said. His fingers lightly smoothing his hair away from the rather small spot. Patrick knew it was actually from the rocks, but he didn't feel like explaining his seizures on the rocks to Pete right now. “We should probably get you cleaned up. You still smell like the concert.” Patrick thanked every being in the universe Pete hadn't said he still smelled like the bar or like Alex. Pete gave him a strange smile, like there was something very funny about that.

Which only served to embarrass Patrick. How gross was it to lay so close to someone who smelled even remotely like the bar they had played in a full day ago? It couldn't have been pleasant for Pete, and yet he had done it no problem. Doing so sort of suggested more feelings than friendship though, as surely he wouldn't have laid with just anyone like that, would he? It had almost felt like they were on stage again, with Patrick just as confused as he had been that night.

In the end Pete had to help Patrick down the hall and into the bathroom. Neither one of them pointed out how badly he was shaking or how every single movement seemed to cause him some sort of discomfort.

A fluffy towel was run under the tap by Pete, who then proceeded to scrub at the scratches on Patrick's hands, arms, and after a little wiggling to remove his pajama bottoms, even his legs. Patrick was once again embarrassed by how disgusting he was.

“I changed the sheets on your bed. They should be all nice and clean for you now,” Pete said lightly. Patrick could tell he was trying to make conversation, but he was honestly having trouble following. The confusion must have been obvious on his face as Pete clarified. “They had sand and mud on them. After you take a bath you can go and lay down and go back to sleep. But first....” He trailed off, grabbing the towel and gently scrubbing the crusted blood from the back of his scalp.

By the time he was finished, Patrick's hair was sticking up with cowlicks all over the place. Pete couldn't help but laugh at the confused, sleepy face he had along with his adorable bedhead. “You look like a duckling,” he said, to which Patrick gave a playful glare.

“Here, I'm going to fill up the bath and then you can properly clean yourself up,” he said, leaning around Patrick to turn on the taps. He ran a hand under the water, checking that it was the perfect temperature, before plugging the drain. “I'm going to leave you to it then. Just throw something at the door if you need me.”

Patrick nodded. He waited until he could no longer see Pete, even though he'd left the door cracked open, before stepping out of his underwear and t-shirt and into the water.

The water was the perfect temperature. It warmed his cold, shaking body, yet it didn't burn him the way he had accidentally done the first few times trying to take a shower. Maybe Pete was a pro at all this kind of stuff.

Just thinking about him caused a rock to sink into his stomach. Part of him was thankful that Pete seemed to be treating him like he usually did, if a little closer, while the other part of him was more conflicted. He still wanted to go home, yet after their moment laying there on the couch together he couldn't help but want to stay. Even after seeing him with her, which he though said a lot about the way he felt towards him.

He quietly splashed some of the water around, taking care to make sure he didn't bother his scratches or bruises too much. It was a hypnotizing activity, something that he could have easily done for hours and hours. How in the world had he never realized how wonderful it was to do such a thing when he had literally lived in the water his whole life? He had no clue how much time had passed, but most of the soap had drained away, when he heard Pete knocking on the door.

“You better get out soon or you'll be all pruney,” he said softly. Patrick glanced at his hands, taking in the wrinkles forming on his hands. Those had never happened as a merman.

“Do you need any help?” Pete asked.

He shook his head. He knew humans had a thing about being naked around each other, and even if Patrick didn't understand he didn't want to make Pete uncomfortable. In fact, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Okay. Just be careful getting out,” Pete said. He pulled a hand from behind his back and placed some more pajamas on the bathroom counter. Patrick gave him a grateful smile as Pete backed out of the bathroom.

Now that Patrick was aware of how long he'd been in the bathroom he realized the water was actually close to freezing, nothing like the nice, warm water he'd crawled into in the first place.

Despite the shivering, he did feel slightly better than when he had got in. He was at least able to stand and get dressed by himself this time. Even the journey down the hall seemed less difficult. Maybe it really had just been all the alcohol he'd had that he was reacting to, and not the curse finally beginning to take full effect.

The TV was playing when he walked into the living room, the shades drawn and soft light bouncing around. It was some movie Patrick didn't recognize, but he could tell the type of movie it was. Despite how tough Pete liked to dress and act like he was, Patrick knew he had a huge soft spot for romantic comedies. The cheesier the better, according to him.

“Hey,” Pete said. He hardly glanced away from the TV, but he did scoot over to make room for Patrick on the couch. “I thought you'd be going to bed?”

He gave a small wave as he settled down next to Pete, closer than was probably required, but he didn't seem to mind. Dropping a hand over Patrick's shoulder seemed to be like second nature to Pete at this point.

“Are you cold?” Pete asked, finally looking away from the TV. “You feel like you're shivering.”

That would be the nerves. And a bit of the curse as well. Shrugging seemed like the best option at that point, so he did. Without even missing a beat, Pete pulled a blanket over the two of them, taking great care to wrap them both up.

To ignore the giant blush spreading across his face, Patrick turned his attention to the movie. While it might be summer outside it was clearly winter with some sort of holiday going on in the background of the movie. Both of the main characters were huddled up, cute little matching coats and hats and mittens to protect them from the cold. Patrick had never actually been to place that cold before, instead being like most merfolk and choosing to live in a warmer climate, but he was jealous of how warmly they were dressed at the moment.

The girl was laughing way too hard at the guy's joke, even going so far as to playfully slap at him. He grabbed one of her hands and pulled her closer before twisting her around. Suddenly, they were dancing, the two of them moving perfectly in the snow.

Now Patrick was truly interested. He'd always wondered how humans actually danced, way too many limbs included for it to be simple. _The Little Mermaid_ scene had been short and animated and barely counted for anything. Without even noticing, he'd somehow leaned in, pulling out from the blankets to see the TV better. He didn't even feel Pete's eyes on him, concentrating on taking in everything about the scene, despite not wearing Andy's glasses and trying to figure out what it all meant.

The guy spun the girl around, their legs somehow not tangling and their feet not clomping on each other like Patrick had imagined they would. Their bodies somehow seemed to be perfectly made for the other. It was a thing of beauty and art to watch two people who were so in love dance together.

“Do you like to dance?” Pete asked, leaning forward with him. His tone was light, yet probing, the same way it had always been when asking more personal questions about Patrick. His own reaction to it had changed however, taking away the annoyance at being unable to answer questions and replacing it was gratefulness that Pete still cared enough to ask anything.

A shrug seemed to be the perfect answer again. He's never danced like that before, with two legs and the love of his life, so who was he to say if he liked dancing? Those things would convince him to like dancing even if he didn't, though.

“ _Never danced,_ ” he signed. 

His eyes widened in disbelief. “You've never dancing before?” Pete asked. The idea seemed to be so far-fetched for him, even more so than him never having ate pizza before.

He dragged his thumb under his chin, shook the Y hand back and forth, and pointed to the couple on screen. “ _Not like that._ ” It was silent for a moment, nothing but the TV playing cheesy romance songs in the background.

Neither one of them moved for a long moment. Then, Pete held out his hand in Patrick's direction, slowly moving to stand up as he did so. Patrick furrowed his brows, looking at his hand like it just might bite him if he took it.

“Would you like to dance?” Pete asked, ridiculously like a gentleman. They were both lazing about in their pajamas, their hair completely unbrushed, yet you would have thought they were at some high society event with the way Pete was acting.

The absolute absurdity of the situation made Patrick laugh. Maybe it wasn't the nicest thing to do when someone asked you to dance, yet it was the only thing Patrick could think to do.

Uncertainty shone in Pete's eyes as he slowly retracted his hand. The last thing Patrick wanted to do was make Pete think he was mocking him, though, so he reached out and grabbed his hand gently, like the both of them and this moment were something fragile that would shatter if he held on too tightly.

A vibrant smile crossed Pete's face now. As quick as he could without flinging Patrick across the room, he pulled him up and kicked the coffee table out of the way. His hands shook as he brought Patrick's up to rest on his shoulder's while Pete's slid around his waist. Red spread across Patrick's face quicker than anything, easily amusing Pete.

His legs were shakey and his feet felt like they were standing in glass, but Patrick refused to give up. Pete swayed them back and forth gently, occasionally stepping to the side until they were slowly moving across the room.

They weren't perfectly matched like the couple on the screen. Just as Patrick had originally thought, there were way too many feet involved for him to really keep track of, which is how Pete contributed to his abused feeling feet. More than once they bumped into the coffee table, leading Pete to kicked it almost all the way out of the living room and into the kitchen.

Dancing was surprisingly like music, Patrick had decided. You just had to know where to put your hands and had to precisely place your feet. The steps seemed known or planned yet somehow spontaneous, like one had a rough idea on how a song went and then threw out the sheet music. But both of them were musically inclined, if in their own ways, so the dancing soon smoothed out.

Pete pulled Patrick in close, swaying back and forth. His face was so close that Patrick could feel his breath ghosting over his cheek. It was way too close for him to look directly at Pete, so he chose to look away, only glancing at him when he thought he might not be looking. 

Both of them were grinning like idiots, like they had just won a million dollars or had just heard the best joke in the universe. And maybe they had in a way, after all, Patrick was sure there were plenty to be made from a silent, dancing siren. Patrick liked when Pete smiled like that, it showed off all of his teeth, which was a rare thing for him since he rather disliked his teeth for some reason. He believed it made him look “goofy”, although Patrick could never agree with that in this instance. His clothes, his actions, yes, but that smile? Never.

The hands on Patrick's waist became an arm, and before Patrick knew it he was being dipped, one of the best moves he'd seen dancers do so far. Surprisingly, it went rather smoothly, with no one ending up on the floor or anything.

Bangs from the floor came up as the neighbors below grew tired of their stomping feet. Soon the only sound in the room came from the off beat bangs and Pete's laughter, which quite easily filled up the small living room.

Eventually Pete danced them over to the stereo barely even pausing in their swaying to press play. Slow music came out, sweet melodies making Patrick almost giddy to the point of drunkenness.

When Patrick looked up the short distance between the two of them he noticed he was staring at his lips. Noticeably. He licked them, self conscious in a way he had never really been before. As if Pete were actually under a spell, he copied him, wetting his own chapped lips. Patrick wished he could sing along to the song playing on the stereo and cements this memory forever into both of their minds.

But he couldn't. And eventually his shaking legs grew way too weak and the pain became too much. 

Just before their lips were able to touch, Patrick started to fall. Gravity dragged him down mercilessly, also dragging Pete down. The two of them ended up laying sprawled on the floor, Pete still giggling his head off.

“Sorry, I tripped us,” Pete said with a laugh. He rolled over to look at Patrick, in case he was trying to sign anything, only to see his face scrunched up in obvious pain. Useless hands were reaching for his legs and pulling at the fabric of his pajamas like they were hurting him somehow. 

“Are you okay?” Pete asked. “Sorry if I fell on you!” He grabbed one of Patrick's hand, working until he could easily wrap his hand around his. “What's wrong?”

Well, he was dying for one thing. His legs felt like someone had stretched them out and then snapped back into place like a rubber band for another. Every time he moved his legs more than an inch he was convinced it was going to be ripped from his body.

“Are your legs cramping?” Pete asked. His hands were now holding both of Patrick's, warming them in a way only Pete could.

Patrick gave a non-committed shrug and nod combination. Cramp was a mild word for it, but it worked.

“Do you think you can get back up on the couch, if I help you that is?” Pete asked. Before Patrick could give him an answer, or even decide one for himself, Pete was dragging him to his feet, taking almost all of his weight.

He laid him down on the couch, instructing him to lay all the way across it.

“ _You sit where?_ ” Patrick asked. He didn't want to be a mood killer, although he realized he already was. Gone was the happy, giggly Pete and back was the worried and concerned Pete. He loved both, but he preferred when he was happy.

“Don't you worry about me,” Pete said, lifting Patrick's legs as he sat down on the couch. He placed his legs in his lap and began to rub them. “I've got it all planned out.”

Patrick watched in confusion as Pete massaged his legs. He'd seen merfolk do it before, gently removing loose scales and soothing sore muscles, but he'd never had it done to him before. Not like this anyways.

“I used to get leg cramps all the time when I played soccer,” Pete said softly. “They hurt like a bitch, huh?”

Patrick nodded. The movie was still going in the background, the stereo having reached it's final song and turned itself off rather than restart. The sound of wedding bells chimed for the beautiful couple to kiss.

“I love movies like this, you know?” Pete said suddenly. His eyes were serious as they worked Patrick's legs over. Patrick didn't really see the draw in them, but he did know that Pete loved them. “Like, I'm not stupid, you know. I know that not everyone in the world gets a wedding and a happily ever after, but I still like the thought of everyone getting a shot at that kind of life.”

Patrick wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what. He also didn't want to break whatever spell Pete was under that was making him speak so openly.

“Like, maybe it's possible that you can kiss someone or tell them you love them at the right moment and everything will just magically get better.”

 _'Kiss me,'_ Patrick thought.

The soft light seemed to be fading from Pete's eyes, bringing back the cool brown of vacancy. The kind that scared Patrick, that made him think of Pete shutting himself up in his room for hours on end again or zoning out in front of the TV and watching the exact same movie three different times and not noticing the difference. He'd do anything to drive it way.

“Maybe I'm just stupid. I don't even know what I'm saying,” Pete said.

Patrick screamed internally. _'You do know and you're right!'_

Patrick sat up. Pete kept massaging his legs, ignoring Patrick's movements or perhaps not even noticing them. This time it didn't matter if it broke the curse or not. This time it would just be about showing Pete how much he believed in him.

He leaned forward, barely puckering his lips. If he went straight for it, he'd hit the side of his mouth, which Patrick would be okay with. Pete ignored his approach, still too focused on working on his muscles. He was almost there, just another inch or so...

Someone knocked on the door. Pete turned his head. Patrick got to kiss his cheek, the feeling of soft yet prickly stubble ticking his lips.

His head whipped around to stare at Patrick, shock covering his entire face. His mouth fell open, whether to ask what just happened or to yell at Patrick he wasn't sure. He didn't get the chance to figure out either, because the banging started up again.

“C-Coming!” Pete yelled shakily. He got up and barely had the door open before Joe was barging in, quickly followed by Andy. He was talking before Pete had even shut the door.

“Alright, so I owe you and Andy over like two hundred dollars because if what these guys are claiming is true, then you were right,” Joe said. Pete tried to ask what he meant, but Joe continued on anyways.

“Where's your remote? Never mind, there it is.” He picked the remote up off of the coffee table, giving it a curious look as to why it was so far away from where it belonged.

He changed the channel, not even remarking on what they had been watching. When he was done he crossed his arms, nodding to the TV.

Some TV announcer was obnoxiously loud and pointing to the scene behind her. That's when it hit Patrick where he knew the scene from.

“Is that the pier?” Pete asked about the same moment. Apparently he, too, could recognize the location, despite there being way more people, boats, and news vans around.

“Shhh,” Joe said.

“Mr. Jones and Mr. Lewis are claiming that they have actually managed to kill a mermaid. The two fishermen have claimed that earlier this afternoon while fishing they managed to kill a mermaid and have offered it's scales a proof.” The picture changed and suddenly a man's image was filling up the screen, replacing the young news lady.

“We've been hunting out here almost every single day, and we finally got one.” The man was disgusting, Patrick decided. His teeth were yellow, and he had the appearance of someone who hadn't bothered to shower in weeks.

“And what proof do you say you have, if you have no body?”

The man's disgusting yellow smile spread. “We've got these.” He held out his palm, and Patrick's heart stopped.

Ten or so purple scales were in his hand. The same purple that was so unusual it made it hard for anyone to court him. The same purple he associated with friendship and childhood and everything in between. The color could only belong to one.

“We've also got a video that we're going to release after we get the body out of the water,” the man said. “The little shit got away for a minute and died in a cave.” The body. _The body._ Like Brendon had never been a person with actual feelings and thoughts and friends.

The lady quickly cut the scene, bringing it back to the news crew in the office looking surprised by his dropping of the word “shit” on air for the local news. Patrick didn't know why they were so confused, the man _was shit_. Why should they be surprised that he would talk like he was?

This was all Patrick's fault, he realized. Brendon never would have been that close to land had he not been waiting for Patrick to come back. If Patrick had just went back with him that day, if he'd just fought Hayley off a while longer, then they would all be home. They'd all be safe.

Now Brendon was _dead_. And his body was going to be hauled out of the water eventually...

Tears were already forming thoughtlessly at the corners of his eyes until the weight of them became too much and they began to roll. He knew he was going to be sick before he felt it. He'd tuned out the rest of the news, and the chattering going on between the three other people in the room. Numbness, as cold as ice, washed over him.

Pursing his lips closed, he tried to fight back against the growing wave of nausea. The trash can was barely within reach, even after himself at it. Somehow, he managed to push himself the last little bit before throwing up everything possible.

“Shit,” Andy muttered.

Brendon was gone. Even if he made it back to being a merman what would be the point? He'd lost his best friend. He'd be just as alone as he would be here without Pete. Even with Gabe and Travie around.

Now that he had started, he felt as if he couldn't stop. It was like his body was trying to purge every single bad thing and feeling he'd had since he became a human. Coughing did no good, but that felt like all he could actually do.

“Let's put you to bed,” Pete said gently, rubbing his back. Once Patrick stopped throwing up he helped him to his room. The covers were drawn back so he could get in easier, and the trashcan was dragged closer to the bed.

A cautious hand swiped away the tears on his cheek. “If you need anything, I'll be in the living room with them, okay?” The 'if you need _me_ ' was heavily implied.

It was too early to actually go to sleep, but Patrick did anyways. He drifted away to the soft rumblings of his three friends in the living room.


	19. Drowning Is For The Depressed (And The Dying)

“What was that about?” Joe asked when Pete came back in. The coffee table was now back in place, Joe's feet propped up on it as he sprawled on the couch.

Pete kicked his feet off of the table as he moved to get the trash can. It was gone, however, and the noise coming from the kitchen suggested that Andy was taking care of it.

“He's sick. I think it's from staying out all night on the beach while he was drunk,” he said.

“That sucks,” Joe said sympathetically. He'd spent his own fair share of nights left roaming outside drunk for him to know what Patrick was going through. “So what do you think?” he asked, gesturing to the TV.

“It's probably fake, Joe,” Pete said, rolling his eyes.

Joe sat up, waving to the TV. “Oh, c'mon! You guys are the ones who believe in this mermaid crap! Now that they've got proof you guys are backing out?”

Andy sat down in the chair. “Even if they are real, they don't deserve to be hunted and killed,” he protested.

Pete ignored him. “There are ways to fake those things anyways,” he said.

“They've got a body!”

“That they can't get out of the water yet.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You guys have been going on and on about how they're real, I just thought you'd like to see the news story.”

Joe was wrong, Pete hadn't wanted to see the news story. He knew that his friends had thought he was crazy when he'd first told them that he thought a merman had saved him, and this was even despite the fact that Andy believed they were real! To hear that someone had killed one was just down right upsetting. If every mer...person? was as nice as Patrick had ended up being, then they had probably just down one of the worst things possible. 

The story continued on, a young woman ranting and raving on TV. “They should be placed on an endangered species list! Who knows how many of them there are or their intelligence level. This could be like killing another human.” Again Pete thought of Patrick and had agreed.

“A woman after my own heart,” Andy muttered.

A few people debated back and forth on TV about that one. A few scenes later and Hayley popped up.

“We have a serious homeless problem in this community, and all you guys wanna report on is some stupid people who think that they might have caught a mermaid? You guys get more and more ridiculous as the days go by.” Hayley's segment was quickly over, cutting back to the news room.

“Isn't that the girl Stump knows?” Joe asked. Pete nodded.

“Hayley's her name. She was the one who helped me find Patrick,” he said. They went silent for a few minutes.

“You don't really think it's real, do you?” Joe asked eventually. “They wouldn't actually kill something like that and make a sport of it like this would they?”

Pete wanted to say no, but he doubted his answer. If he let his mind wander it conjured images of Patrick, his glittering blue tail completely out of the water and choking on air. He wasn't convinced that had been real, not entirely, but it still mattered to him. The thought of it possibly having been Patrick scared him, made him almost literally sick to his stomach. If Patrick had really been a merman then it really could have happened to him, especially considering how close to land he was. The image of the scars on his legs, the scars that had matched the merman's tail, haunted Pete as well now.

No one answered. No one really knew what to say.

XXX

A few hours later and a pizza had been called in. Patrick was still asleep when Pete left to go and try and find him some medicine he could take with dinner.

“He's always shivering and having these weird muscle cramps when he thinks no one is looking. Now he's throwing up and sleeping all the time,” Pete said, shrugging on a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans. “What kind of medicine do you get for that?”

“The kind a doctor prescribes,” Andy said. “Seriously, he needs to go to the doctor.”

“I know. We've talked about it,” Pete said with a sigh. “But he refuses to go for some reason.”

Andy's eyes looked down the hall. “If he waits too much longer he might not have a choice.”

Pete shivered at his words. Andy had no clue what he was talking about. Patrick was just sick. Surely, if he took a few pills and got some sleep he'd be as good as new.

“Just watch him,” Pete said. “I'll only be gone for a minute. Think you can survive that long?”

“I'm sure we can manage, just go,” Andy said, playfully shoving him out the door.

Joe patted the spot next to him on the couch for Andy to sit down. “He's asleep, just how much trouble does Pete think we would get into?”

“He's just worried,” Andy said, but that part had been obvious to everyone.

Together they sat down on the couch, watching the news repeat the same story over and over again. It seemed as if everyone around was talking about the mermaid that had been found right off of their coast.

“Must be a slow news day,” Andy muttered.

A door down the hall creaked open, causing both of them to jump. Joe leaned off of the couch until he could see clear down the hall.

“You okay there, Stump?” Joe asked. He watched as Patrick jumped, clearly startled and not expecting anyone to have noticed him. When he turned more towards the light of the living room Joe could see the sweat clinging to him, soaking his t-shirt and dampening his hair.

A shakey hand pointed towards the bathroom, mouthing, “Bath.” Joe could see the draw in taking a bath when you were sick, and until Pete got back with the medicine, it was probably the best that they could do for him.

“Okay. If you need us, we'll be in here,” Joe said. Supportive wasn't one of his strong suits in a situation like this, usually it was Andy dealing with sick people, but he'd be damned if he didn't make some sort of show of support for Patrick.

The nod he receive from Patrick told him he must be doing alright.

XXX

Patrick had never actually heard a siren's call before, what with being a siren himself, yet he could guess what they sounded like. They were supposed to be the most enchanting sound you could ever imagine, as if all of your dreams and desires were shoved into a few notes.

So even though he'd never heard one before, he could imagine what one would sound like. Usually he would say that it sounded like Pete playing the bass, with rain water and rustling leaves and laughter mixed in all together, but now all he could think of was the way the bath was calling to him.

It didn't matter that he had taken a bath just a few short hours ago, he _had_ to have one now. Sweat was dripping down his body, despite him being convinced that it was actually freezing. The old, claw tub would fix all of that though. Warm water would make everything better.

Well, maybe not _everything_. Brendon was still gone and he was still dying. Not even the warmest of waters could fix that. 

He knew that when he became human there had to be some sort of risk included, aside from his obvious lack of knowledge about humans. Still, he never would have guessed that this exchange would actually _kill_ him.

And even after he'd found out about that he'd been fine with it. That was his choice, his life. Brendon had never asked for that! Hell, if Patrick hadn't been a siren constantly going to the surface, despite his fear of being seen, then Brendon probably never have been so interested in humans. He probably wouldn't have felt the need to act all brave and dependable for Patrick if Patrick could have just manned up and done everything by himself.

And Brendon most certainly wouldn't have been there that night if not for Patrick. At least that much Patrick knew.

He turned on the tap to the tub, allowing it to fill up. He crawled in, fully clothed, and slid down the side of the tub. Sinking down into the tub made things almost better. When the water was covering his ears like this he could pretend he was back home, adventuring with Brendon. When they were younger Patrick had teased Brendon for his games of “pretend”, joking that he'd been much too old to play such games. Now he wished he'd payed closer attention to everything. Maybe his pretend world would have been better.

He slid down fully under the water and thought of home.

XXX

“Are you kidding me?” Andy asked in amusement.

The pizza guy and Joe were standing in the doorway, Joe quickly patting his pockets in a searching motion.

“Obviously not,” Joe said, embarrassed. He tossed his keys to Andy and gave the delivery guy a sheepish smile. “If you wait like three minutes he'd going to run across the lot and get my wallet from our apartment. You'll get a good tip!”

The guy shrugged. “No problem.” He squinted his eyes between Joe and Andy. “Hey, aren't you guys in a band?”

Joe looked so excited it would have been embarrassing it if wasn't so honest. Andy reminded himself that Joe was the youngest, and this venture was one of the the more successful bands that he had been apart of. It was only natural that he would get excited about being recognized. Still, Andy rolled his eyes and walked out of the door.

“Be back in three,” he called out. He nearly took Pete out on the stairs, barely stopping to explain what was going on upstairs and why Joe was hanging out with the pizza guy.

“He's taking another bath?” Pete asked.

Andy shrugged. “He was sweaty and shakey. I think he thought it would make him feel better.”

Pete agreed, although he wasn't sure about that. He blew right past the pizza guy, who sputtered when he recognized who Pete was, intent on unpacking the medicine.

He'd never really been one to buy medicine before, instead choosing to suffer through whatever ills he had until he could convince either Andy or Joe to help him out. This left him with very little experience buying medicine so he had no clue what would be the best. He'd chose a fever reducer, some cold medicine, and something that was supposed to help with leg cramps. Hopefully one of them would be good enough.

As he set the boxes out, reading which ones would be best when taken at night or together, he heard Andy come back up the stairs. The pizza guy was still talking, saying next time they ordered it would be on him.

He glanced down the hallway towards the bathroom. Patrick would have to eat something before he would be able to take any of these, and the sooner he did so the better.

He walked down the hall, stopping right outside the door. “Patrick?” he asked softly, tapping the door with his knuckles. A few moments passed, giving Patrick plenty of time to respond.

But he never did.

Pete knocked again, louder this time. Something felt wrong in the pit of his stomach, although he couldn't really explain why. Patrick was mute, it was hard for him to communicate through a door. Maybe it was just because he couldn't even hear the water move, which it always did when Patrick was taking a bath.

Against most socially acceptable norms, Pete opened the door. His gaze fell right on the bath tub, his heart failing and stopping in an instant.

Patrick's upper body was completely submerged, water covering his entire head. His eyes were closed and his reddish, dirty blonde hair was fanned out like a mock halo. He didn't even react in the slightest to door being flung open, not even so much as a flinch.

“Patrick,” Pete whispered. “Patrick!” he yelled. Patrick still didn't respond. He ran into the room and, heedless of all the water he was going to splash, yanked Patrick from the water, barely even registering the fact that he was still completely clothed.

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” he repeated over and over again, hoping that the more he said it the less real this situation would be.

Patrick's head lolled limply, his hair dripping water into his eyes that still refused to open. Pete laid him out, flat on the floor aside from this upper half, which Pete was cradling.

No coughs came from Patrick. Nothing did. It as like he was already...

No. There was no way. None of this could be real. Who would even drown in a bath tub? That was a death for old people and small children or even the depressed like himself, not someone like Patrick.

He didn't know what to do. It was as if the only thought in his mind was the color white and the screeching static of a TV. Not even the soaking wet body in his arms felt real.

Because it wasn't, he decided. This was all some terrible dream and pretty soon he was going to wake up with Patrick curled up against him and they could dance again and this time actually complete that kiss Patrick had tried to give him.

“What happened?” Joe asked, running into the bathroom. The water soaking the floor made it difficult to stop, causing him to slide in the last little bit. His blue eyes widened as he took in Pete stroking his hand through Patrick's wet hair, a constant stream of 'no, no, no, no,' falling from his lips.

“Andy!” Joe yelled. He looked down the hall, stepping out of the bathroom for a second to yell at him again. “Get in here! Now!” 

Quickly, he turned back to Pete, crouching down until he was right in front of him. “Hey, hey, Pete?” You've gotta let go of him for a second, okay?” He tried to wiggle his arms in between the two, hoping to check on Patrick and lay him down flat. Pete, however, had other plans.

“No! You can't take him,” Pete said, tears running down his face. “I just, I just don't know what to do.” His voice broke halfway through, turning into sobs.

Joe knew that Patrick needed CPR and that Pete was way too shaken to be able to do it. He kept rocking him and Patrick back and forth, tangling his hand in his hair. He even gave him a brief kiss to the side of his temple like that would help him wake up.

Andy came in, pausing at the scene in front of him. Joe placed his hands on Pete's shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Andy's going to help him, okay? But you've gotta let him go, okay? Right now,” Joe said, coaxing Pete like he were a frightened wild animal. And maybe that wasn't such a far off comparison, because he definitely felt like lashing out at somebody.

When Pete made no move to release Patrick Andy did it for him. Working as quickly as he could, he freed Patrick from Pete's arms and pushed Pete at Joe.

“Get him out of here,” Andy said, doing his best to straighten Patrick out.

“C'mon, Pete,” Joe said, grabbing him by his arms. Pete kicked, his feet slipping across the wet floor with a squawk. Again, all he could say was 'no, no, no, no' as Joe pulled him from the room. Eventually he was screaming, doing everything he could to get back to Patrick.

“Pete! Pete stop, there's nothing you can do,” Joe said, dragging him into the living room. “Andy's got him.”

Pete fought still. “He needs me, Joe! Didn't you see him? He needs me! Once it became clear Joe was not going to let him go he stopped, sagging against Joe and sobbing into his shirt.

“I didn't know what to do,” Pete whispered around tears. “He was so still and he was just laying there....”

“Shh, I know,” Joe said quietly. That's when Pete realized Joe actually did know, he actually did understand.

“Oh God,” Pete muttered. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry.”

Joe scrunched up his brows at Pete, completely confused as to what he was apologizing for. “It's not your fault, Pete,” Joe said, knowing how Pete sometimes got in these moods for no reason. Now that there actually was a reason he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that he was reacting this way.

“It is though. I didn't realize what it was like for you to find me that night.” Joe went stiff. This wasn't something that they talked about. “I had thought jumping in the ocean would be a great way, get rid of the body without anyone having to see it...” His voice broke. “I know now. I'm sorry you had to see me like that.”

Joe hugged him tighter as they sank to the floor. “Pete,” he began, not knowing really how to continue it. “It's not your fault. Either one of those things,” Joe said, reassuringly. “Besides you were awake when I found you, remember?” It would do little to comfort Pete, but Joe wanted to separate these incidents in any ways he could.

Pete leaned his face into Joe's shirt, practically smothering all of his words. “Because he found me. I told you, Patrick found me and helped me.” He pulled back and stared at the floor. “And I can't even be in the same room as him. He saved my life, and I can't do the same.”

Joe brought him close again. “Because you don't need to save him, because he's going to be fine. You don't have to do this alone, you know? That's what Andy and I are here for.”

They sat there in silence, the only sound coming from Andy's steady pumps on Patrick's chest. ' _At least we've got the best drummer in the world to keep rhythm_ ,' Pete thought bitterly.

“I love him,” Pete said out of nowhere. It was so quiet, Joe thought he had imagined it until Pete repeated it. “I said, I love him.”

Joe waited a second. “I know. That you said and that you love him.”

“I really do,” Pete said, as if he might need to convince him.

“Does he love you back?” Joe asked, although he was sure of the answer anyways.

“I think so,” Pete said.

Joe didn't say anything. He wanted to say he was happy for him, but under the circumstance it didn't feel like the right sentiment.

“Do you think it was an accident?” Pete asked. Joe was silent so he specified. “What happened in there, I mean.”

Joe tensed, not liking the direction this was going. “Yes, Pete. Of course it was an accident.” He paused. “Why do you ask?”

Pete shrugged, keeping himself buried in Joe's side. Joe wasn't very big but he was a little taller than Pete, which helped to make Pete feel safe, even though he was older than Joe.

“I don't know. It's just... He was fully clothed, and... I did it. Now he did it. You don't think I'm like cursed or something do you?”

Joe hated when Pete got like this, like his brain was willing to take every single bad thing that happened around him and twist it until it was his fault. It was a downward spiral from there, dragging him down until he couldn't get back up without help. And unfortunately, Pete sucked at asking for help.

Words were never exactly Joe's strong suit when it came to these things. He was the guy who'd go out and swing at anyone who made his friends cry and could shit talk someone like crazy. But when it was your own friend saying these things about himself it got a little more confusing.

“You're cursed, but not in that way,” Joe said, which made Pete look up. “You're cursed to be one of the most caring people I've ever met. You're cursed to have this wonderful mind when it comes to writing lyrics yet you sometimes need help picking the good ones out. You're cursed by being this amazing person that I know, and everyone else who knows you, knows you are and yet you still seem to hate yourself.”

“You're cursed, but not by any of this,” Joe said, ending his speech. Like he said, he hated to see Pete like this, mainly because he was his friend and also because it scared him. Pete had been one of the first people he had created a band with and actually liked. To hear one of his friends talk that way about himself was actually devastating.

Finally a rough, wet coughing was heard from down the hallway. Quiet murmurs from Andy mixed into it, telling Patrick that he was going to be okay. Wheezing breathes were heard and Andy called out to Joe. 

“Joe! Do you know if we still have your cousin's spare inhaler in the apartment?”

Confusion was obvious on Joe's face. “I think so.” He glanced towards Pete. “Why do you ask?”

A few shifting noises were heard before Andy appeared in the doorway. “His breathing is a little... off. It might help him,” he said. He cast a look back over his shoulder, clearly keeping an eye on Patrick. He clearly didn't want to leave Patrick, but he knew that it probably wasn't a good idea to leave Pete alone either.

Joe looked to Pete as well, these thoughts running through his head. As if sensing what the two of them were thinking, Pete looked up.

“Can I see him?” Pete asked. Already he was looking down the hall and getting ready to go that way. Andy looked hesitant to allow him, but eventually nodded his head. At least if the two of them were in the same room he would be able to watch over both of them.

Pete rose on unsteady feet, somehow making it to the bathroom without falling. Andy must have set Patrick up against the tub, giving him a towel to wrap himself up in. Patrick didn't even seem to notice Pete had come into the room, his eyes never leaving the floor.

He sank down next to Patrick, ignoring the water soaking through his pants. He'd never been on this side of the interaction before, never been the one who was needing to look in someone's dead eyes and pull them back himself. He tried to ignore Patrick's wheezing, unsteady breaths, but he wasn't very successful. They were much too loud in the silent room.

Heedless of the water still, Pete pulled Patrick against him, trying to warm his frozen body through his wet clothes. Exhaustion seemed to pour out of Patrick for all to see, yet Pete knew it was not the kind of exhaustion that would be solved through any sleep.

He wanted to ask what happened but he also knew that wouldn't help. He could remembered waking up later in the hospital and hearing how scared Joe and Andy had been, worried that they had lost their friend. It had been difficult to convince them he was okay, finally admitting that talking about it was actually making him worse.

So he knew better than to ask what had happened. But not even that fact could truly stop him from at least asking after his welfare.

“Does it hurt to breathe?” he asked. The rattling in Patrick's breathing hurt Pete just to listen to, reminding him of his own drowning.

Slowly, Patrick nodded. Pete had figured. Unfortunately, there wasn't much they could do without having him inspected by a doctor, which Pete knew had to happen. Swallowing that much water was dangerous, even after the water had been removed, which – aside from guessing about the suicide attempt- was part of the reason Pete had had to stay in the hospital over night.

While Pete could remember the pain in his throat after drowning, he couldn't remember having this much trouble breathing. It was as if Patrick was still stuck under water, unable to survive on such a small amount of air. His lungs seemed to be working over time with no pay off.

He looked over to Andy, making sure Patrick wouldn't be able to see his face when he mouthed, “Is he okay?”

Andy looked helplessly between the two of them before shrugging. He wasn't a doctor, and he certainly wasn't going to pretend to know enough to be one. Thankfully, he was saved from actually having to answer by Joe running back in, the inhaler clutched in his hand.

“Here ya go,” he said. He handed it to Andy who handed it to Pete. Pete had never had to use an inhaler before, but really, how hard could it be? Surely, he just needed to get Patrick to breathe the medicine in.

He brought the inhaler to Patrick's lips, getting ready to press down on the button. Yet Patrick turned his head away, burying it into Pete's neck and away from the inhaler.

“C'mon, Trick, this is going to help you breathe,” Pete said. He leaned his body back, trying to expose Patrick's face, which continued to be pushed further into his neck.

He looked up at the other two and nodded his head towards the door. Both of them seemed hesitant, not wanting to leave either one of them alone at the moment. Eventually, Joe clapped Andy on the shoulder and led them both out of the room.

Pete glanced down at Patrick, his expression softening even further. “Trick, hey, c'mon. It's just you and me now,” he said. He kept one of his arms wrapped around Patrick's shoulders while his other hand fiddled with the inhaler. If he had to force Patrick to breathe in this stupid medicine by shoving it in his mouth then he would. He was just hoping it wouldn't come to that.

“This is gonna help your lungs, okay? You just gotta press this like this and ta-da!” he said, gently pressing down until it sprayed. He could feel Patrick shifting around, watching him press on the inhaler. His little gasping breathes were loud in Pete's ear, even as he tried to ignore them.

Eventually Patrick pulled away enough, allowing Pete to place it to his lips. Once it was pressed, Patrick yanked back and coughed, although it was less violent than earlier. It sounded better than before but just as painful.

A shaking hand reached out to take the inhaler from Pete, who made sure to keep a hand on it as he brought it closer to Patrick's lips. Patrick himself pressed the button a few more times, each time breathing a little more deeply than the breath before. It was a small thing, and his breathing was still off, but Pete was beyond thankful that he no longer sounded like he was going to choke on air.

Neither one of them moved, instead choosing to just sit on the dirty, wet, bathroom floor. Pete's arms were wrapped around Patrick, who buried his face into Pete's chest in return.

“We should've called 9-1-1,” Pete whispered, almost as if he wasn't even aware he was talking. Patrick stiffened, his head tilting just a bit to pull his head away from Pete's chest so he could hear him over his heartbeat. He didn't need to see his face to know Pete's eyes were vacant.

“You weren't breathing, you were just... under the water and I...” Pete trailed off. After something like this he knew that people shouldn't talk about it this directly to the person who had attempted- if that truly was what had happened, not unless they were the ones bringing it up or unless they were speaking to a professional, but he really couldn't help it. He felt like if he didn't say something he might explode or wither and die with very little in between.

“I was scared we'd lost you,” he whispered. He knew he needed to word this next part carefully, that his next words would be as likely to harm as much as they were to help. “I think we should take you to the doctor. Just to make sure everything's... everything's alright.” 

Patrick tensed, the way he always did whenever Pete brought up taking him to the doctor. It had been a discussion a few times before, whenever Patrick seemed to get blinding headaches to the point where he literally couldn't stand or when he was shaking so bad it seemed as if he might shake himself apart, but it had never really gotten him very far. Pete couldn't help but wonder if Patrick had a phobia of doctors or something, seeing as how he'd refused to go every time. Pete, not wanting to upset him or probe any further than he usually did, had always let it slide too, always giving in to Patrick's fear and allowing him to have his way. This time was different though, and even Patrick seemed to realize it.

“ _In the morning_?” he signed. And God, he honestly looked so pitiful and miserable that Pete couldn't help but give in just this one last time. As long as Patrick was okay for now and would get help in the morning everything would be okay.

“Fine,” Pete said softly. “But you're sleeping with me tonight so I can keep an eye on you.”

XXX

Patrick had never really been in Pete's room before so he really had no idea what to expect. He figured it would of course look more “lived in” that his own room, which was still pretty bare, but he still hadn't really prepared himself for how much... stuff, he had in there.

There was hardly any free space on the walls, posters and old band fliers and pictures instead covering almost every inch of them. There were four shelves in the room, one filled with books, another with music, a shelf dedicated to what appeared to be childhood toys- mostly worn down, broken, and fading, and the final one a mix of the three plus pictures of family and friends, some in frames and others floating free or taped to the surface.

Despite the late hour and the black out curtains, Pete's room seemed to be full of life and color. Patrick couldn't really help but wonder if that was done on purpose, to somehow brighten up his dark moods, but he didn't ask. He was way too tired and it was way too awkward and personal to ask anyways.

After Pete had helped him strip out of his drenched pajamas and dry off he'd helped him into pair of nice, clean pajama pants, making sure to keep his eyes averted the whole time, and had led him into his room.

Patrick could hear Pete outside the door, explaining the situation to Andy and Joe. Neither one of them seemed to be too thrilled with their decision to not go to the hospital tonight.

“Pete, this is dangerous. He'd literally stopped breathing earlier, you can't just wait until morning!” Andy half-whispered, half-shouted. He sounded closer to the door than he had before, as if he was planning on coming in and taking Patrick himself.

“Do you think he's good enough to wait until morning?” Joe asked. “Do you honestly believe that nothing will happen to him in the next few hours until you can take him in?” For once, Joe was being calm, causing Patrick to wonder what had happened while he had been out.

“Yes,” Pete said confidently. “And I'll stay by him, so even if anything happens I'll be there to take him in.”

A pang of guilt struck Patrick at Pete's words. Pete had such faith in him, such a stead-fast belief that he would be fine it hurt Patrick to know he was lying to him.

Patrick knew he wasn't going to make it much longer. In fact, he'd honestly be surprised if he made it through the night at all. When he had suggested waiting until morning to go to the doctor he hadn't really believed Pete would go for it, ignoring the suggestion in the hopes of “helping” him. When Pete had agreed, with the exception that Patrick had to stay with him all night, he'd been surprised and felt what little amount of joy he still could.

If he had to spend one last night as a human, one last night alive, then he was hoping to do it beside Pete.

He laid down on Pete's bed, the arguing continuing on outside. The words “attempt” and “accident” were being thrown back and forth, with no heat, just worry. It made Patrick wonder, had what he'd done been an “attempt” or an “accident”? He hadn't really planned to kill himself when he'd laid down in the tub, yet he hadn't also wanted to live at that moment. Did that truly make something an attempt though? He wasn't sure and he knew that that worried his friends and himself. 

He spread his arms, enjoying the cool, smooth sensation of the sheet sliding under him, comforting himself with Pete's smell surrounding him. He knew the red blankets on Pete's bed were probably the exact same as the ones on his own bed, but Pete's somehow felt better, to the point of causing him to wonder why he'd never slept with Pete before.

Now there was a scary thought. Just the words “sleep with Pete” made him blush. Sure, they'd slept on the couch before, closer than “friends” probably should, but this was different. This was a bed, the place where Pete went to sleep and to dream almost every night.

He tried not to think about who else might have slept and dreamed and did possibly more with Pete there before. A picture of Ashlee almost seemed to be looking at him from the top of the random shelf, her smiling face right next to Pete's, with Joe jumping in and photo-bombing the background. It was a good picture, way too good to be collecting dust on the top of a shelf no one would ever see.

A few minutes later Pete stepped inside. He gave Patrick a sheepish, almost shy smile, before walking over to the bed. Patrick knew he was more than likely taking up over half of the bed, but he found that he really didn't care.

“Here,” Pete said, placing the inhaler in Patrick's hand. “Just in case you need it.”

Patrick brought it to his lips and breathed in. He wasn't sure what was really helping him to breathe, but he wasn't going to complain. This “inhaler” had already done wonders for him so far, such as allowing him to breath without gasping.

He coughed a couple of times, watching as Pete's face clouded over. Maybe his lungs weren't doing so great after all.

Pete crawled into bed next to Patrick, wrapping his arms around him. He wanted to curl up beside Pete and never leave his side, which he supposed was for the best, because he was probably going to die that night.

“Are you cold?” Pete asked. The bed was practically vibrating with Patrick's shivers, although he wasn't sure if it was from him being cold of if it was just from him being sick. Either way, Pete pulled the blankets up and around the two of them.

Patrick tucked his hands against Pete's chest, warming them and enjoying the feel of Pete's heart under them. It made him want to tap out a rhythm, any rhythm at all, but one specifically made for Pete. If he couldn't sing for him, then he would at least do one final act to show his love through music.

Pete pulled back, trying to look properly at Patrick. “What are you-?” he trailed off, recognizing the beat. It was from one of his songs, one that he hadn't used yet. Pete had lyrics already created for it and had seen Patrick looking at them, messing around on his guitar and creating a beat with it, even if he hadn't shared it with any of them yet. It was always interesting to watch Patrick create music, but it was especially interesting to watch him when he didn't know anyone was paying attention. It seemed like that was the only time would could really see how much Patrick seemed to understand music- and not just Pete's music, but the whole thing in general.

“Let's be alone together,” Pete sang, almost shocking Patrick enough to stop. Pete rarely ever sang unless it was a joke or screaming. He'd certainly never sang this softly to Patrick before, like it was something special for just the two of them. Patrick wouldn't say it was exactly good, but it was special and that was what truly mattered.

The song continued, Patrick slowly fading away into sleep. He didn't want to sleep, knowing that this might genuinely be his last moments of life, and yet he couldn't help it. His beats were growing slower, and Pete's voice was steadily growing lower, quieter.

“I'll check in tomorrow, if I don't wake up dead. This is the road to ruin and we're starting at the end.”

The room was silent as Pete's voice came to a halt, fading out like the rest of the world. Patrick wanted to open his eyes, to see those big brown eyes this close at least one last time, but he couldn't.

Even the air felt still. It was as if everything was frozen in place for at least this one moment. Pete shifted, his light breaths sounding tinged with tears.

“I love you, Patrick. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I love you,” Pete whispered.

Patrick gave a small, content smile. Pete loved him. He honest to God loved him. It didn't matter that he was probably too late anymore, that Patrick was likely to die right next to him that night. Because Pete loved him. And that was what all of this had been for anyways. To help show Pete that he was loved and cared for and hopefully receive some of those feeling in return.

He was too tired to respond. His hands itched to move, to sign back what he had first learned to sign, but he couldn't. His eyes wouldn't even open, instead staying closed as if the weight of the entire world was on them.

Pete sighed, clearly assuming Patrick hadn't heard him. “Goodnight, Patrick.” He leaned forward and kissed his forehead and wrapped his arms even tighter around him. “I'll be here when you wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So life got a little hectic, which is why there was such a large space between updates. There were too many ten page papers and late night catering events and me getting sick and other personal things going on for me to be in the proper place to type up this story, and if it isn't the best work that I'm capable of at that moment, I don't like to post it!
> 
> However, while I was being a lump on a log, someone actually made fan art for this story! gee-ky over on tumblr has made a cute little mer!Patrick, because the tumblr user a-little-less-27-candles read it to him! (I guess, anyways, that's what the description under the picture says, so sorry if I got it wrong!)
> 
> This is actually the first fan art anyone has ever made of any story of mine, despite having posted in many different fandoms over the years. So if you guys wanted to check those guys out I'd highly recommend it! Thank you guys for being awesome and incredible and encouraging and- most importantly, patient!


	20. Things I Want To Do: Help, Love, Save, and Trust

They must not have moved all night, was Patrick's first thought. He was still pressed close to Pete's chest, his hands curled up in his wrinkled shirt, with Pete's arms wrapped tightly around him.

As comfortable and warm as it was, it was nearly suffocating. Or maybe that was just his shitty lungs giving out. Either way he gasped a few times, fumbling around for wherever the inhaler had gone to.

Suddenly a hand was at his mouth, the hard plastic pushing against his lips. The button was pressed, and he felt like he could breathe again.

Once his eyes focused he noticed Pete, laying right beside him, the inhaler still in his hand. It was like he was posed to do it again, just in case the first time hadn't been enough. His eyes had bags under them, exposing how little sleep he'd managed to get that night.

“I had to do that a couple of times last night,” he said, by way explanation. The worry and exhaustion was almost a suffocating, physical presence in the room. Patrick guessed it was more than a couple of times that he had had to do that.

Patrick smiled gratefully at him. Honestly, he could have woken up next to a bear and smiled like that just because it meant he had woken up at all.

Pete shifted on the bed, his arms moving from around him. “We should probably get ready to take you to the doctor's,” Pete said.

No doctor was going to be able to help, that much Patrick knew, but now he was stuck. He hadn't planned on being alive, or at least alive enough, for Pete to honestly take him in. Would the doctor be able to tell Patrick wasn't a “real” human? Would there be some way for him to just know he was a merman? If he could tell would they force experiments on him like he had always been told humans would do? He'd hoped Pete wouldn't allow that to happen, but who really knew once the truth was out.

Not that he would be alive for long anyways. Even if the doctors or scientists wanted to experiment on him they'd have a very short window of time to do so.

Pete rolled out of bed, shrugging a t-shirt on as he went. Patrick tried not to stare as he did so, and instead tried to get out of bed by himself. His feet and legs burned and shook, but he was able to stand up without collapsing right back onto the bed. 

Pete scrambled, nearly wiping himself out on the end of the bed. He offered his arm to Patrick, hoping to steady him. Patrick accepted it, allowing both of them to head towards the living room together at a shuffling pace.

“Here, sit down here,” Pete said, helping to lower him down onto the couch. Gingerly, Patrick sank down onto the couch, watching as Pete ran around, collecting things they would need. 

“Might need this. Oh, and this,” Pete said, picking up a hoodie and his phone charger. He shoved them into a backpack, along with a couple of notebooks Patrick knew he wrote in when he was anxious. He didn't know how long Pete planned on them being at the doctor's, but seeing all the stuff he was packing told him it was probably going to be a while.

Eventually, watching Pete 's anxious running began to make him feel anxious, too. He looked away from him, sad to admit that he didn't even have the energy to help or reassure him. His tired gaze fell on the TV, not even watching it, just noticing the colors changing and believing it was a good place to rest his eyes.

Slowly, the sound of Pete packing stopped. Without even turning his head he could tell Pete was watching him, could feel his eyes burning a nice hole in the side of his head.

“Patrick,” Pete asked tentatively. He sounded nervous, like Patrick was something fragile that needed to be spoken to softly. 

Patrick blinked, allowing his eyes to come back into focus. Suddenly, he could read the headlines on TV, and he understood why Pete had been so worried.

_'Two mermaids? Local men report killing one, working on other.'_

Who could they have managed to catch now? His first thought was for Travie and Gabe, but he hoped that they were smarter than that, that they hadn't tried to save Brendon. There was also Dallon, who Brendon sometimes convinced to go to the surface with him every once in a while if he and Patrick were fighting, but again he figured he'd be smarter than that.

The horror must have been clear on Patrick's face, because Pete quickly ran over to him. “Hey, what's wrong? You're okay,” he said, crouching down in front of him. He rubbed his hands up and down Patrick's legs, trying to bring some warmth back into them.

Patrick stared at the TV. This was his fault. It was his job as a siren to protect his colony and look where it had got them. Brendon was dead and now another one of his friends was in danger. All because he felt like being selfish and trying to be a human.

Forget what he said about being happy to die next to Pete last night. If he was going to die he wanted his last act to be helping his friends.

_“We need to help,”_ Patrick signed, directing the _help_ to the TV so Pete would understand.

Pete scrunched his eyes and frowned. He glanced over his shoulder to see the TV, taking in the headline again. Understanding came over Pete's face as he blew air noisily out of his nose.

“Patrick, you can't,” Pete said, trying to make him understand. “I know you wanna help, but you can't.”

Patrick shook his head again. He had to help them, why couldn't Pete comprehend that?

_“Please,”_ Patrick signed. _“Please, please, please.”_ He was desperate, and he knew that it was plain to see on his face. He watched Pete's face for any sign that he was going to give in.

He looked... heartbroken. That was the best way Patrick could think to describe it. Sorrow and pain were shining in his brown eyes, almost as if he did understand why Patrick wanted to help so bad. But if that was true, then why the hell wouldn't he let him go?

“Patrick, you're not... well. You're sick, you need a doctor,” Pete said. There were tears in his eyes, his voice thick and heavy and threatening to crack.

_“Ok, ok, ok,”_ he signed over and over again. _“We go after we help. Please.”_

Pete still looked like he wanted to argue. He let go of Patrick's leg, brushing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Patrick you might not... you won't be able to help, okay? Let's just take care of you, and then we'll see what we can do.”

His unfinished sentence hung in the air. _'You might not make it that long,'_ that's what he was wanting to say, and he knew that. He also knew that he probably wouldn't last much longer or be of any help but he had to do something. He was going to save the rest of his friends or die trying.

_“Help, help, help, please!”_ he signed furiously, just trying to convey his desperation by signing faster and harder. _“They need us!”_

Pete's eyes slid closed, like he was trying to block out what he was trying to say. Bowing his head, he rested it against Patrick's legs and let a sob escape.

“Let me just take care of you, okay? Let me help _you_.” It was obvious Pete knew something was really wrong, like he could sense that the curse was going to take Patrick away from him, even if he knew nothing about it.

Patrick slid his hands under Pete's chin, gently lifting his head. His thumbs brushed away the tears that were leaking from his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. Watery brown eyes opened, staring and pleading with Patrick.

_“If Andy and Joe need help, you help. I help,”_ he signed. 

Comprehension visibly dawned on Pete's face, his eyes widening. The sorrow was still there but it was almost downplayed, empathy now crossing his face. 

He swallowed a few times, attempting to get his words together. “Patrick did you.. do you know them? The mermaids?” It was like he had to ask, he had to know now.

This is what Patrick had wanted to avoid. How does one explain that he only knew the mermen because he used to be one? Pete would think he was insane or a freak or who knew what else.

_“Please, help,”_ he signed. He couldn't answer those questions, at least not at the moment. Every minute they wasted arguing in the apartment was another minute that another one of his friends was at risk.

The room was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop. Neither one of them moved, neither one of them were satisfied with the answers or actions they were getting from the other. 

Hesitation shone on Pete's face. His fingers tightened on Patrick's pajama bottoms, bunching and crumpling the fabric in his fists. Teeth worried his bottom lip between them, leaving it red and painful looking.

Defeat over took his form. He sighed and seemed to just give in like a marionette whose strings had been cut. The only part of his body that refused to loosen up was the fists clenching Patrick's pajamas.

“Okay. Fine. We'll go to the beach. But if anything happens, anything at all, we turn around and take you in. If we get there and can't help then we _turn around and take you in_ ,” he repeated the last part with a special amount of emphasis. He paused for a moment, staring at Patrick's face. “Understand?”

Patrick nodded so fast and hard it made him dizzy. He fought against the wave of dizziness, refusing to make Pete take him in before he even had a chance to get to the beach.

Pete's eyes held something in them, something Patrick couldn't place. “I'm probably going to regret this, aren't I?”

He could only hope he wouldn't.

XXX

A short time later Pete and Patrick were in Joe's van driving towards the beach. From the look on Pete's face this was the last thing he wanted to be doing, yet he was doing it because Patrick had asked. Patrick had to appreciate that.

Before they could even reach the beach a pretty big problem became apparent. The parking lot was full of cars of all kinds, including news vans. There were so many cars people were even parking at the side of the road, giving the semi-popular beach the look of an amusement park.

Patrick fidgeted in his seat, tapping his fingers on the dashboard. Way out in the water, so far it was just a blur to Patrick's terrible eyes, was the boat that had supposedly manged to kill and capture a mermaid. He'd recognize that boat anywhere, even with his terrible eyes. A news boat floated a good distance away, most likely trying to give the men room to work.

“We can't park here,” Pete said. He floored it then, pushing the van to go faster than Patrick had ever seen it go before.

Patrick turned around in his seat, watching as the beach faded in the distance. _“You promised!”_ he signed accusingly at Pete. How could he break his promise and not even stop at the beach?

“We can't park there,” Pete said, trying to be the voice of reason. “But I know somewhere else we can go.”

They drove a little ways out of town until they came to an old boat shop. It looked rundown, like no one could possibly work there, but there was a car parked out front. It was red and beat up, the logo of their local pizza shop slapped onto the side. 

Pete hopped out, leaning back in to look at Patrick. “Wait right here, I'll be back,” he said. The door slammed, leaving Patrick alone in silence as Pete jogged towards the shop. He disappeared around the side of the building, causing Patrick's anxiety to rack up. They needed to get there now, not waste time doing whatever it was Pete was doing.

Just as Patrick was about to give up and try and find Pete, he bounded out of the front door and over to the van.

“Okay,” Pete said, yanking the door open and climbing inside. “We've got a boat.”

He started to back the van up until to was nearly behind the shop. Suddenly a guy appeared, tying a boat down to a trailer.

Patrick vaguely recognized him as their pizza delivery guy. He smiled and waved at Patrick, obviously recognizing him as well.

Between the combined efforts of Pete and the delivery guy, it wasn't long before they had managed to hook up the trailer to the van. The boat on it was so small, if they deflated the sides of it it probably could have fit in the back of the van.

“Good luck trying to get out there,” he said to them. “I delivered some pizzas to the boardwalk earlier and it was packed. I practically had to walk a mile.”

Pete smiled and thanked him. “I've got an idea where to go,” he said.

As they drove off Patrick turned towards Pete, the question clear in his eyes. "We're not going to be able to get near their boat from the beach, even if there was room for us to park. I heard Joe talking to him the other day about everything under the sun when I came home, and I remember him mentioning a boat and this shop. All I had to do was promise him that we'd let him come on stage at our next concert and he let us borrow the boat.” Patrick smiled at that. It was almost fun to see Pete using their semi-local popularity for good instead of evil.

Soon enough, they were pulling up onto the beach where they had went swimming with Andy and Joe all that time ago. It was an effort to back the van up among all the rocks in order to get it close enough to pull the boat from the trailer and into the water.

“Go on, get in,” Pete said. He held the boat steady while Patrick climbed on in. The rocking of the boat almost toppled him straight into the water, but Pete grabbed his hand as he settled down into his own seat.

After climbing in, Pete began to wrestle with the motor. The delivery guy had apparently reassured Pete that there was enough gas in it, yet Pete was beginning to doubt that fact. He yanked the cord a few more times, eventually letting out a cheer when the motor cranked to life.

“Hold on,” he told Patrick, who gripped the seat for dear life as they shot off.

Pete tried to play it cool, but he was freaking out on the inside. The brief rundown he had received when borrowing the boat had not been nearly enough. This led to their ride being rather rough, sometimes speeding up way too fast and then jerking too sharply at others.

The news boat and the hunters' boat soon popped up on the horizon. Instantly, it became clear why the news boat had chosen to stay so far away.

“What are they doing?” Pete asked, squinting his eyes against the sun. There seemed to be something randomly darting from the boat and into the water, then being reeled back in and darting in another direction.

Patrick's grip on the seat tightened until his knuckles were absolutely white from blood loss. His expression was grim as he stared at the boat in front of them.

_“Harpoon,”_ he mouthed.

Pete wasn't positive what he had said until he saw him move his hand in a stabbing motion. _“Harpoon,”_ Patrick mouthed again. The hand doing the stabbing motion reached for his legs when he was done, clutching at his pajama bottoms where Pete knew his scar was. Patrick didn't even seem to be aware that he had done it, but it was enough to make Pete's blood boil. It really helped to give him a bigger and better picture of Patrick's life before they found each other.

“I guess that's why everyone's staying so far away,” Pete mumbled. He leaned forward until he and Patrick were almost sitting on the same seat. “What are they even shooting at?” he asked.

Patrick already knew what they were shooting at. Somewhere under the water was a merfolk- who it was Patrick wasn't sure, but he knew there must be someone. The way the sun would occasionally catch something shimmery like fish scales before it darted away and back down was enough of a confirmation for Patrick.

Why weren't they escaping? If they had that kind of mobility then why didn't they just swim off? Everyone knew better than to mess with hunters, especially without a siren with them, even the younger ones.

Patrick brought his hands closer together, sucked air in through his teeth, and then pointed to the boat. _“Closer,”_ he signed and Pete understood. His eyes were as serious as any Pete had ever seen.

Pete doubted they could get much closer without being stopped or shot at, but he agreed to try and get closer.

They'd barely gone a few feet when the motor sputtered and died. Both Pete and Patrick were nearly tossed to the floor of the boat as they were slammed to a stop.

“What the fuck?” Pete asked. He unfolded himself from his position crouched over Patrick to look back at the motor. He tried yanking on the cord, yet nothing happened. The motor clicked and the cord caught less than halfway through.

Patrick watched as Pete tried and tried again. He let out a small, frustrated sigh and flinched when it twinged in his lungs. He couldn't stop the hand that grasped at his chest, hoping that it might somehow help.

Drawn by the sounds of his gasping, Pete's head jerked back in his direction. “No, no, no, not again,” Pete said frantically. His hands scrambled at the bottom of the boat, more than likely searching for the inhaler.

Unfortunately, it was in Pete's backpack, which Patrick knew was back in the van.

“Where is it!?” Pete yelled. Panic had completely taken over his voice and his body as he looked around the tiny boat. 

Patrick leaned back on the bench, fighting for any breath he could get. He stared up at the blue skies and tried to regulate his breathing like the winds blowing off of the water.

A cold, clammy hand grabbed onto Patrick's arm. If he'd had any breath left to take it would have been scared right out of him.

“Patrick,” a voice whispered next to his head. He turned his head just a bit to the right and saw Gerard's brown eyes staring at him. They were stretched wide in surprise and sympathy, taking in every inch of him. Every so often they would dart towards Pete, who was still searching for the inhaler. Occasionally, the sound would pause, and Pete would try the motor again.

_“Gerard,”_ Patrick mouthed. Was that who had been darting through the water, taunting the fishermen? It didn't really seem like his style, but then again, Patrick hardly knew him.

“So you didn't break the curse?” he asked, sadness seeping into his entire form.

He shook his head. Wasn't it obvious that he hadn't? He was clearly dying right there in front of him.

Gerard cursed, his head dropping until it bumped against the boat. “I was really rooting for you,” he said, so low Patrick almost missed it.

Pete suddenly hovered over Patrick, gently pulling his head until he was looking at him. Gerard had just barely managed to disappear in time, avoiding Pete's eyes by seconds.

“Hey, hey, hey, it's okay,” Pete said, his voice raspy and heartbroken. “You just gotta keep breathing until we can get to the beach, okay? Or back to the van. Just keep breathing, please, please, please.”

Patrick nodded even though he knew it wouldn't be enough. Pete gave him a tight smile and disappeared again. The sounds of the crappy motor trying to come to life filled the air.

Gerard popped back up, and Patrick's head lolled to the side again to look at him. The sadness was still there. “What are you doing out here, Patrick?” he asked.

_“I wanted to help,”_ Patrick mouthed, jerking his chin in the direction of the hunters' boat. 

Gerard bit his lip. “Do you still want to?”

_“How?”_ he mouthed. It was unlikely he would live long enough to even see land again, what help could he be to anyone?

“You're going to have to trust me, alright?” Gerard asked. “Just trust me.”

Patrick wanted to ask what he meant, but there wasn't time. Suddenly, Gerard was half in the boat, wrapping his arms around Patrick's body and pulling him down into the water.

“Hey!” he heard Pete yell. It was the last thing he heard above water before he was being dragged down deep.

Water filled his nose and mouth as he fought to breathe. He thrashed, trying to break free from Gerard's hold but it was useless. His bare feet scraped across Gerard's scales, cutting into his skin but even that didn't phase him. With one arm locked around Patrick's waist and the other across his chest Gerard was easily able to hold him in place.

A splash came from above and then Pete was in front of them. His eyes showed how shocked he was to see Gerard, but he took it all in stride, prying at Gerard's arm around Patrick's waist.

Gerard sank lower, dragging him away from Pete. Pete, never one to give up, followed along, all the while trying to free Patrick.

The edges of Patrick's vision were growing dim. He could no longer feel any of his limbs, and he could no longer control his head. It tilted back though, allowing him to see Pete one last time. His face was red from holding his breath for so long, and air bubbles were steadily streaming from his face. It was clear he wouldn't last much longer before he drowned like Patrick was.

Still, Pete was nothing if not stubborn. He clung to them, still trying to help Patrick, to save him.

Patrick forced his stiff limb to move until he was holding Pete's hand. Pete paused briefly, his blood shot eyes looking at Patrick.

_“I love you,”_ Patrick mouthed. He kissed Pete's hand, his lips pressing firmly to his skin. He tried to force all his love, all his hope, and all his missed chances into this one first and last kiss.

The last sight he saw was Pete's devastated face as Patrick and Gerard sank lower, and Pete finally swam for the surface.

“Just trust me, please.”


	21. I Need A Rescue (But No Recovery?)

Pete had done everything he could to save Patrick. He knew he had. This fact did little to reassure him as he watched the light fade from Patrick's eyes through the burning salt water.

He had said he loved him. Patrick had looked him in the eye, as much as he could anyways, kissed his hand, and mouthed that he loved him.

And that mermaid (merman, he supposed) had taken everything from Pete, just when he had finally managed to achieve what he had only dreamed about. He'd taken the love of his life...

His lungs burned from holding his breath for so long and the corners of his vision was growing dark. He hadn't even noticed that he had swam down that far until the surface seemed so far away. Being this far down again brought up memories from the first night he'd ever seen Patrick, memories of sinking until the fireworks faded from his eyes and the darkness grew to over take him. How had that only been about a month or so before?

The air greeted him, almost like a slap to the face that filled him with relief. He gripped onto the boat tightly, grateful he was able to breathe again and the dark spots on his vision faded. His lungs ached as he breathed as deeply as he could. There was no way he could leave Patrick down there alone!

His eyes burned and protested against adding more salt water to them, but he pressed on. Everything was a blur, but the one thing he could see was that Patrick and the merman were gone. The only thing left behind was the clothes Patrick had been wearing sinking slowly to the bottom of the ocean.

Pete didn't even bother going all the way down. It was clear that Patrick was gone and he was going to need help doing anything about that fact.

He surfaced again, took a few deep breaths, and moved around under the boat. There had to be something blocking the motor from turning if the sound had been any indication. It only took a few seconds for Pete to realized what the problem was. Jammed and wrapped around part of the motor was an old, disgustingly slime-covered rope, obviously placed there by something. Probably the merman who was more than likely pissed off at everyone for having those damn fishermen kill one of his own.

The rope resisted being pulled, the slime making it rather difficult to unravel it from the motor. He'd had to surface several times just to breathe and every time he did he could feel an internal clocking ticking away his chances of ever seeing Patrick again. Because there had to be a way to see him again, this couldn't literally be the end...

Finally, he untangled the last of it and threw the rope pieces as far away as he could, watching with little remorse as they sank to the bottom. Now came the next question: should he drive the boat all the way back to the beach to get a hold of Andy and Joe with his cell phone, or should he try to go to the pier and borrow someone's cell phone? You weren't supposed to get that close to the shore with a boat- as it was a swimming area, but he figured no one would really care at this point. After all, he was sure everyone had more important things to worry about. With that thought, he turned and headed in.

He managed to avoid all of the people as he brought the boat in. He killed the engine well before he got to the shore though, just to ensure he wouldn't burn out the motor by running it into the sand or anything.

Several people yelled rude things at Pete as he dragged the the lightweight boat in, pointing out that the boat shouldn't be there. Nobody actually seemed to care enough to actually try and stop him, however, so he took heart in the fact that no one was going to do anything about it.

Pete looked around the crowd and noticed a couple of familiar faces. They seemed to recognize him as well, although they were choosing to keep their distance and just observe him.

“Where's Hayley?” Pete yelled. One of them jumped at Pete directly talking to him while the other just shoved him forward.

The guy responded, but Pete couldn't hear him over the crowd. He asked again and when he got similar results he waved him over.

Reluctantly, the guy came over. “She's busy. Protesting the media coverage and the huntings and all that,” he said.

“Okay, but where?” Pete asked, trying to mask his impatience.

“Why?” the guy asked.

“Because it's important!” Pete yelled. He took a deep breath to compose himself and appeal to the guys. “Please, it's for Patrick.”

The guy wrinkled his nose and glanced at his friend. “Who?”

Pete let out a growl. “Stump! The mute, homeless guy who lived here with you guys!” It hadn't been that long since he had lived here, surely they would remember him!

The guy did seem to remember Patrick, because he nudged the guy next to him and whispered something in his ear. The second guy nodded his head and stared at Pete. “I'll be right back,” the first guy said as he ran off down the crowded beach.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time for him to race back with Hayley in tow. During the wait several people drifted over to Pete's boat, eyeing it an him like they were just begging for a ride. He glared at them until they walked off, much to the amusement of the guy left standing with him. When Hayley showed up her eyes roved over the beach, finally landing on Pete who was still sitting in the boat to prevent anyone from messing with it. Her gaze fell on every single spot around Pete, hoping to catch any sight of Patrick. When she didn't see him her face took on a look of confusion.

“What happened?” Hayley asked as she approached. The sign she had been holding during the protest was quickly handed over to the guy next to her and she threw her hands on her hips. “Where is he?”

The panic Pete had felt out there was threatening to overwhelm him. “Can I borrow your phone?” he asked around the lump in his throat.

“Why?” she asked. “Seriously, Pete, where is he? And what's up with the boat?” She looked around the people gathered near by, searching for the shorter man.

“Someone took him, and I need to call someone to help me get him back,” Pete said. The last thing he wanted to do was try and explain what had happened to Hayley, especially with strangers listening in and watching. He didn't need to be committed before he could actually help Patrick.

She scrunched up her face, but still she dragged her phone out of her pocket. “Wait, someone took him? Like kidnapped him?” The two guys next to her shifted uncomfortably at the thought of one of their own being snatched.

Pete swiped it from her hand and dialed in Andy's number. Andy was the one who knew the most about all of this mermaid shit, surely he would be able to help. At Hayley's insistence that he answer, Pete shrugged and mumbled, “Something like that.”

He almost missed the sound of Andy picking up. The crowd around him were way too loud, resulting in him and Andy entering a shouting contest.

“Andy! I need you and Joe to come to the beach,” Pete yelled. He plugged one ear, hoping that he would be able to hear Andy's response. A faint _'why?'_ came across the line.

“Something's happened to Patrick, and I need your help. When you get here I'm in a boat down by the pier,” Pete glanced around at all of the people, avoiding Hayley's expression. A faint honking noise drew Pete's attention to the road, and he cursed under his breath. He'd completely forgotten that he and Patrick had taken the van, thus preventing them from having a ride there.

“We're already here,” Andy said. Pete was sure that there was no way that could possibly be true, because there was no way his life was going to be going that good.

“What?” Pete asked, one because he wasn't sure that he'd heard correctly and two because he never got that lucky.

“We're already here. We'd heard the news earlier when I got back from my run, and I convinced Joe to come with me to protest. You said a boat near the pier?” Andy said.

Pete confirmed and hung up. When he handed it back to Hayley he saw the annoyed and questioning look on her face. “They're coming,” he said.

“What's going on, Pete?” she asked, her voice much quieter than it had been before. Her hands idly flipped her phone over and over while waiting for an answer.

“I told you, someone took him, but we're going to get him back,” Pete said.

“But who took him and where!?”

Thankfully, he was saved from answering by a puffing and shoving Andy and Joe appearing. They were almost tossing people out of the way in their haste to get to Pete.

“What the fuck, Pete?” Joe asked once they were within shouting range. His eyes darted like Hayley's had when she'd ran up. “Where's Patrick?”

“That's what I'm asking!” Hayley shouted.

Andy and Joe glanced at her in confusion. “Weren't you supposed to be taking him to the hospital?” Andy asked, moving his eyes slowly away from Hayley. He crossed his arms in an almost paternal way, like a father would if he caught his kid playing hooky. 

“The hospital? What happened to him!?”

Pete waved for all of them to be silent. “Look, I'll explain everything if you two just get in the boat. Hayley,” he said, turning to look at her. “I'll explain it to you later, too. Right now I need you and everyone you can get together to just patrol the beach and be on the look out for Patrick, okay? Like, especially near the water.”

So many more questions were spewing from Hayley's lips, but Pete ignored all of them. He pushed at Joe and Andy, moving them along until they were inside the boat. A few moments later and they were cutting through the water, explanations flowing from Pete.

“He just grabbed him, dude. Like, straight up ripped him from the boat,” Pete said. He'd tried to explain everything as he navigated them back out to where he had last seen Patrick. It was difficult to judge, considering there was nothing to really mark the place.

There was sympathy in Andy's eyes, but here was also a wariness, the same look he used to give Pete when he was being a little manic. “Why were you guys even out here again?”

Pete hated his tone. It was like he was worried for Pete when all of his worry should have been on Patrick. 

“Look, I already told you. We were gonna go to the hospital after we tried to help out the mermaids here. He seemed to be pretty determined...” Pete said. The first had started out so confidently, but it tittered out towards the end when he saw the look on both of their faces. 

“And you're sure he was...dragged out by a merman?” Joe asked. His hands were starting to do the hover thing that they did when he was worried about people, especially when he was worried about Pete.

Pete hated it. It made him feel like there was actually something wrong with him. He knew Joe couldn't help it, and that he should be thankful Joe wasn't asking if he was okay forty-seven times a minute like he sometimes did when he was really worried, but it didn't make him feel any better. “Yes! I followed them down and there was this merman with a black tail pulling him down!” He couldn't help the frantic tone his voice took on towards the end.

“Pete,” Andy said, his calm voice edging into warning. He, too, held his hands up like he was a wild animal who needed to be tamed.

“Please! You guys gotta believe me!” he pleaded. He looked down into the water, trying to figure out what would make them believe him.

“Pete,” Joe said. He scooted a little closer to him, trying to catch his eyes. “Seriously, where's Patrick? What happened?”

He wanted to rip his hair out. “I told you, that merman took him. He reached into the boat, dragged him out, and pulled him down! Now come on and help me figure out what to do!”

Joe scooted a tiny bit closer again. His hovering hands were almost touching Pete's leg by now. “Okay, we'll help,” he said. His tone and his words were meant to placate Pete, he could tell. “But Pete, you know if a mermaid really did drag him out and under for that long, then this might not be a rescue mission anymore.” He paused and allowed Pete's mind to fill in the missing words. _'This might be a recovery.'_

“No,” Pete said. Because Joe was wrong, Patrick was alive. He knew it, even if he couldn't exactly explain how, he just knew it. “He's an awesome swimmer, remember? That one time at the beach? He could get away.”

Nobody pointed out that it was hard to get away when you had already drowned.

“Okay,” Andy said. “He got away from the mermaid. Now, where would you go in the middle of the ocean to get _away_ from a mermaid?”

“Shore?” Joe said. He shielded his eyes from the sun and turned to look back at the beach. A low, long whistle was released when he saw the distance. “Wow, that's a far swim.”

“And he's weak and sick right now, he's not making that kind of a swim,” Andy said. “Where else?”

“A boat?” Pete guessed. “But mine wasn't here so,” he trailed off, his eyes going in he direction of the news boat and the fishermen's boat. “One of them?”

Joe shrugged. “Makes sense. The news crew would help him.”

Pete agreed that the news boat seemed to be the best option for him. When he turned back around to see if Andy agreed, his eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed confused. 

“So where is the news boat going?” he asked. Both Joe and Pete turned around to see what the drummer was talking about.

Sure enough, drifting away from the fishermen's boat was the news boat. They seemed to be going further out, away from all of the action. Their actions seemed intentional, yet unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world to get there.

“They're leaving all the action,” Joe muttered, glancing over at the fishermen's boat. It was still shooting harpoons, seeming to be completely unfazed by the news boat's departure. 

“Then I guess we're just going to have to ask them,” Pete said, staring right at the fishermen. Nervous exchanges were shown between Joe and Andy and yet they both nodded, agreeing to Pete's plan.

And Pete, not for the first time, was grateful for his friends and their loyalty and commitment. He could only hope that this wasn't going to end in disaster for any of them in return.

XXX

It was cold where ever Patrick was laying. Cold and squishy almost like sand at the bottom of the ocean. The feeling made him miss home and made him wonder if he'd ever see it again.

“Are you awake?” Gerard's voice asked.

Against Patrick's better judgment, he cracked his eyes open. Floating there above him, outlined by the sun filtering in from the surface, was Gerard. His face was worried, his eyes constantly moving over Patrick to reassure himself he was okay.

“What happened?” Patrick asked, raising a hand to his aching head. It froze halfway there, his entire being caught off guard by the reemergence of his voice.

“I can talk?” he asked, shocked. “I can talk!” His voice was a little off, not quite the way it should be but there was no pain and he could _speak_ again.

He sat up, noticing for the first time that he was laying down in some sand. It was cool, the way he had thought he had just been dreaming about, and he'd honestly never been more confused in his life.

“Gerard?” he asked because one, he wasn't entirely sure that really was him or that he was alive, and two, he just didn't understand anything that was going on. If he was at the bottom of the ocean and not drowning then that must mean...

Patrick looked down to where his legs were. Or where they should have been. Instead of seeing his pale, short legs he saw his brilliant blue tail with the scar running across it.

“But, but that makes no sense!” Patrick said, pushing himself up a bit more. Gerard was instantly beside him, urging him to sit back down. “If he kissed me then why am I a merman again?”

“Patrick, it's okay,” Gerard said. Gently, he pushed him until he was laying on his back again and staring up at Gerard. “Pete didn't kiss you,” he said hesitantly. 

“What do you mean?” Patrick asked. “He must have. I can talk again.”

A pained expression came on to Gerard's face. “No. The only way to break the curse and stay _human_ is true love's kiss. There are other ways to just break the curse, though.”

His words soaked in like water on a sponge. “That's why you did it. That's why you drowned me.” His tone was one of disbelief and his voice was quiet.

“Only because you were dying! And I figured you'd rather live and help your friends,” Gerard said defensively.

Patrick shot up and swam until they were eye level. It was an uneasy and unbalanced swim to stay level with him, a struggle just to keep floating. Gerard shrank back from the anger in Patrick's eyes, the accusation in his voice.

“You killed me. I've drowned before and that's exactly what you did to me,” he said. Why would Gerard do that when he was the one who showed him how to be human in the first place?

As if he could read Patrick's mind he answered. “You weren't going to last, and Pete wasn't going to kiss you. I was scared you were going to die and it would be my fault,” he said. He took a steadying breath as if his death had actually been something upsetting to him. “So I sort of broke the curse. It's like a cheat, you know?” He looked towards Patrick with a nod, as if hoping Patrick would join in. When he didn't he kept going. “If you drown in salt water you turn back into a merfolk.”

“Like those old stories,” Patrick mumbled. “Those stories about sirens luring sailors and transforming some?”

Gerard nodded and shrugged at the same time. “I'm not sure about the authenticity of those stories, but yeah. That's the idea behind them.”

Patrick sank back down until he was basically kneeling in the sand. It was weird to control only one thing when he'd grown used to his two separate human legs. How had either option felt natural?

“So what do we do now?” Patrick asked. “There's a whole news crew up there just waiting to get a shot at anything even remotely merfolk-like.”

Gerard ran a hand down his face. “Then that'll be what we get rid of first,” he said. “A nice, distracting song should lure them away well enough.”

Patrick rested his hand lightly against his throat. He'd almost forgotten about singing. How the hell could something as important as that slip his mind?

Gerard, as if seeing the look on Patrick's face and just knowing, nodded. He smiled brightly his happiness and excitement almost completely out of place. “Ready for your big debut, superstar?”

XXX

It was easy to position themselves unseen underneath the news boat. Patrick was sure that the people on board were way too focused on what was going on across the water on the hunters' boat to pay attention to their own.

“Ready?” Gerard asked,

Patrick heaved a sigh and shook his hands out. “Honestly? I'm kind of nervous. It's been so long, what if it doesn't work?”

“It will, trust me,” Gerard said. “You're going to be awesome.”

He gave him a thumbs up and patted his shoulder before going a bit deeper. Patrick, meanwhile, swam closer to the surface, terrified his voice wouldn't be strong enough. He glanced down to Gerard, who smiled again, and took a deep breath, allowing all of the water to cross his gills.

Then he sang.

He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to sing. While playing the guitar and drums had given him an outlet and brought him enough joy, it was obvious that those things would never have been enough for him on their own. This was who he was and if he couldn't sing then he was only being half himself.

Singing made him feel like he was no longer drowning for the first time in a long time. The dizzy, sick, and weak feeling slowly faded from his body, leaving him wondering how he had ever survived being that weak.

The amazement must have been obvious on his face because when he turned around Gerard was smiling and nodding while moving his arms in a _see, I told you so_ way.

Patrick could not hold in the laugh that came up his throat. That was another good thing to hear. He'd forgotten what his own laugh had sounded like.

Gerard, who seemed strangely proud of him, laughed along with him. “Ready to get the show on the road?” he asked, hooking his thumb in the direction opposite of shore.

Despite the situation, Patrick's smile grew. It was probably weird to admit that he had missed this, but he had. That feeling of purpose and duty and that he was doing something worth doing was a reassuring feeling to be able to feel again.

Again, he sang. It wasn't any particular song, just something that sounded almost like humming. It was more than enough to get the people on board the news boat's attention, however. Soon, he was easily leading them out to sea, further and further away from the hunters and the shoreline. He had to make sure that they wouldn't be able to film them once Patrick went in to deal with the hunters. He wanted to ask what was going on with that situation, what had happened to Brendon (how had he died, what had he been doing?) and whoever else was wrapped up in whatever it was the hunters were doing, but he couldn't do that and sing at the same time. Instead, he settled for leading them out and then asking on the way back in to the hunters' boat.

Once he felt like he had brought them out far enough, he tried his hardest to think ' _keep going'_. It wasn't a very specific or strong thought, but he hoped it would be enough to keep them busy for a while.

He turned around and took in Gerard's nervous stance. He was watching as the news boat drifted out of sight and occasionally looking back at the hunters. All sorts of nervous energy seemed to be radiating from him, which Patrick practically absorbed.

“So what happened?” Patrick asked. He tried to shake off the terrible feeling he was getting but it wasn't possible.

“What happened?” Gerard asked, furrowing his dark brows. 

“Yeah, what happened. Like, how did he... die?” Patrick asked. It was physically painful to force the words from his mouth, the pain reminding him of what Brendon must have felt. He swam past Gerard, intent on putting an end to this madness as quick as he could.

“Die?” Gerard asked. He swam along behind Patrick, clearly making an effort to keep up with him. Patrick tried to hide his delight at being able to surprise Gerard with his speed. His delight was quickly replaced with annoyance and frustration.

“I already know, Gerard, I saw his scales,” Patrick shouted. Did Gerard really think he was that stupid that he didn't know anything about his death?

“Patrick, no listen, slow down. Whose scales did you see?” he asked. He attempted to grab Patrick's arm, but he kept swimming.

“Brendon's!” Patrick yelled, tears forming in his eyes. He tried as hard as he could to hold the tears back but it clearly wasn't working. He ripped his arm away from Gerard and wiped at his face with the back of his arm. “I saw them fucking bragging on the news about it and flashing his scales like they were a fucking trophy!”

Understanding dawned on Gerard's face. Putting on a burst of speed he managed to just barely get ahead of Patrick and grab his face so he was looking at him. The shock of such a thing jerked Patrick to a stop.

“Patrick, listen to me, please,” Gerard pleaded. “Brendon's not dead. He's hurt and he's stuck, but he's not dead.”

Patrick froze, staring into Gerard's eyes. There was no way he was telling the truth. The hunters had Brendon's scales for crying out loud! If Gerard was just yanking his fin he was actually going to kill him.

“What?” he whispered in disbelief.

Gerard repositioned his hands on Patrick's face to ensure he had his total attention, which Patrick found ridiculous. A shark could have literally exploded next to them and he wouldn't have even batted an eye at it.

“Brendon's not dead. He did get hurt with a harpoon and a net, which is probably how they got his scales. He's not dead, Patrick,” he said, patting his cheek. His face switched from comforting and helpful to one of anger and determination. “But he is hurt. And he's stuck near the hunters' boat.”

His mind was turning like crazy. So Brendon wasn't dead? His best friend since they had been kids was still alive? There was no way to contain his joy or disbelief at Gerard's words. 

In an instant, he wrapped Gerard up in his arms, spinning the other merman around in circles with him. Short, choppy laughs bubbled out of Patrick's lips until he was dizzy with happiness and astonishment.

Gerard, clearly caught off guard, lightly hugged him back. It was awkward and obviously something he wasn't used to doing, yet he did it anyways, if only to support Patrick.

Finally, Patrick released him, almost spinning him away from him. “Well c'mon, then!” Patrick said. “We've got to go and save my best friend!”

Gerard stared after him until he began to fade in the distance. His brain finally kicked in and he chased after, not wanting to see the kind of trouble Patrick could get up to without him there.

_This kid is going to be the death of me,_ Gerard thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea how much your words of encouragement have managed to bring me out of my weird funk I've been in. I always get in a funk as winter break comes to an end and school is fixing to start up, so thank you for your encouragements! I hope all of your holidays went well and you guys got to spend some quality time with people who matter and that you at least got something that you wanted for those who exchange gifts!
> 
> (ps.... did you guys really think I'd kill Brendon???)


	22. What A Catch

The first thing Patrick saw when they approached was Gabe and Travie darting around in different directions. They were exhausted, their tails barely moving enough to get them out of the way of the harpoon in time.

Patrick stared at the chaos that was going on, his anger quickly rising. What the hell were they doing? Playing with the hunters? He could tell they were already weakening, there was no way they'd be able to keep it up for much longer.

Gerard yanked his tail, startling and hurting him just enough to allow him to be pulled down behind a rock.

“What are they doing?” Patrick asked, trying to peer over the top. Gerard allowed him, but he kept a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from taking off. He seemed to know him too well.

“Remember how I said Brendon was stuck?” Gerard asked. Patrick nodded “We came back here to try and help you. He said you were acting.... strangely,” he said, and Patrick blushed at the hesitation in his words and knew Brendon must have told him what he had said. “But when we came back you were being led away by the girl with the red hair.”

He allowed Patrick to sit up a bit to see some more of the scene. “Neither one of us felt comfortable leaving you alone so we tried to stick around. We took turns for a couple of days and that's when they showed up.” His grip on Patrick's shoulder tightened to the point of pain, but Patrick said nothing. It felt wrong to interrupt.

“They kept shooting that damn harpoon and eventually hit Brendon.” Patrick's heart rate picked up. “I thought he was fine. He said it was just a graze. Then they flung the net at us.”

Gerard looked over towards where Gabe and Travie were still swimming. “It caught Brendon by the tail, but I managed to pull him out. That's when they shot another net and it got tangled on that rock over there. I couldn't untangle him. That's when I went and got your friends.”

“They've been trying to distract them long enough to free Brendon, but it hasn't been working so far. So it's a good thing you came back.”

Well that at least explained what the hell Gabe and Travie were doing.

Patrick closed his eyes, searching for a song to sing. He had so many more questions like, how did you find me? What would you have done if I had already become human?, but he let them go. They could wait until after he saw to it that Brendon was okay.

“Did you do that?” Gerard asked. 

“Do what?” Patrick asked. When he opened his eyes he easily saw what. For some reason the harpoons had stopped, even though Gabe or Travie didn't seem to be the cause of it. In fact, even they seemed to be confused.

“No, that wasn't me,” Patrick said. He floated up from behind the rock and eased his way towards the scene. Gerard slowly followed him, looking around in all directions.

Gabe and Travie came to a cautious pause, ready to instantly start moving again the second they were needed. Patrick couldn't help but notice they way they kept looking down.

Down below was a pile of netting, almost completely obscuring the rock and the slim mermaid underneath. The purple, just barely visible, was unmistakable to Patrick and made all of his worry and concern come rushing back.

“Brendon?” Patrick asked softly. Without another thought, he shot across the distance between them, rushing to get to his side as quick as he could.

“Patrick, wait!” Gerard yelled, his out stretched hand clasped around nothing as he tried to grab his arm.

Gerard's yell drew Gabe and Travie's attention in an instant. Shock was the main thing across their faces as they watched their returned friend hurry to their fallen friend's side.

Panic quickly crossed Gabe's face as he looked towards Travie. “Patrick!” he yelled and raced towards him.

“Brendon?” Patrick asked once he reached his friend's side. He grabbed at the net, frantically trying to pull Brendon free. The netting was sharp and cut into his fingers when he pulled too hard.

Brendon's dark eyes opened up. “Patrick?” he asked. His eyes widened when he saw his friend kneeling in the sand next to him. Despite the obvious amount of pain he was in he fought his way into a sitting position, the net cutting into his body.

“Stop moving, stop!” Patrick said. He tried to keep his words calm and reassuring but he knew he was failing. Brendon listened though, his actions coming to a halt as he stared at Patrick.

“Dammit,” Patrick cursed. His hands slid on the net, blood slowly oozing from his cuts. Before he could do much more damage to himself or Brendon, Gabe appeared at his side. He slapped his hands away and gripped the net tightly and dragged a piece of it over the rocks. Comprehension flashed onto Patrick's face as he realized what he wanted them to do.

It was slow and tedious work that seemed to be getting them no where. Even at their quickest, there were only small holes beginning to emerge where Gabe and Patrick were rubbing.

Brendon's eyes were resting somewhere over Patrick's shoulder. His curiosity was piqued, but he refused to even glance behind him. That would take valuable time away from freeing Brendon. 

“Who's boat is that?” Brendon asked. Neither Gabe nor Patrick replied, still trying to saw through everything.

“Too small to be a hunters' boat,” Travie observed. Gerard, Patrick noticed, stayed quiet.

Finally, they managed to to make a hole big enough to allow Brendon's tail to slide through. It wasn't easy, Gabe and Patrick had to hold it open, the rocking motion slicing their hands and Brendon's tail in the process. Patrick could already tell that it would scar his tail, much like Patrick's had years before. 

Once Brendon was free Gabe and Patrick threw down the net. As soon as the net left his hands Brendon had wrapped his arms around Patrick and bowled him over into Gabe.

Gabe went with it, laughing and also throwing his arms around Patrick. Travie, distracted from his job as look out, quickly swam over and used his long arms to his advantage to hug all three of them.

Tears welled in Patrick's eyes as he buried his face in Brendon's chest. When he saw the scratches from the net on Brendon's chest he sobbed, out loud and ear-splittingly.

“I thought you were dead,” Patrick said through his tears. “I saw your scales and I-” he cut off again, his sobs leaving him unable to talk.

Brendon pulled him in closer, ducking his face into Patrick's hair. “I thought you were dead, too. I didn't think you would last long enough to come back to us.”

Patrick could feel his other two friends' arms around him, reassuring them that he was still alive. Travie rocked all of them from side to side, his voice low in Patrick's ear.

“We thought you were gone forever, Patrick. When Brendon told us what happened we were afraid we'd never be able to see you again.” Patrick could hear the emotion shaking Travis's words, letting him know the truth behind it.

“I was afraid I'd never see you again, too,” Patrick said. He fought to bring his arm in close to himself to drag his hand over his face. In response he could feel their arms tighten. 

“How'd you get back?” Gabe asked. His arms slowly fell away from Patrick to allow him to get a better view of Patrick. “Like, here and as a merman?”

Patrick fought to get his emotions in check so he could properly explain. “It was Gerard. He found me and helped me change back,” Patrick said. He didn't want to explain what had happened to him to his friends, knowing that they likely wouldn't take very well to the rest of it so he stayed silent afterwards, waiting for Gerard to jump in.

Travie let go of them and swam over to Gerard and hugged him too. “Thank you for bringing him back to us,” he said, his tone eternally grateful.

A squeak came from the smaller merman at the sudden hug from him, although he slowly relaxed into it. There was no denying the huge smile that also came over his face when he made eye contact with Patrick.

A loud splash came from behind them, and they all jumped. The small boat that they had been discussing before and that had unknowingly distracted the hunters long enough for then to free Brendon, now had a harpoon sticking out of the bottom. It was yanked loose, leaving a hole in the bottom of the boat and allowing water to drift in.

A sinking feeling came over Patrick when he recognized the boat. Gerard, too, registered the boat, and his smile faded from his face.

“Don't thank me just yet,” Gerard mumbled.

Patrick wiggled free from his friends, his eyes never leaving the boat. Brendon floated right below him, his hand reaching out to hold Patrick's fin, as if that would stop him. Of course it didn't.

“Why are they fighting each other?” Gabe asked. As if his words had sparked some kind of signal, Patrick shot off, quickly heading straight for the surface.

“Patrick!” He could hear all his friends call out, but still he didn't stop. Those hunters had nearly killed Brendon and now they were firing on Pete. None of this was actually okay.

He could hear people yelling before he even reached the surface. The voices were a strange mix of familiar and unfamiliar, which let him know that it wasn't just Pete stuck on the boat but also Andy and Joe.  
He poked his head out of the water, doing his best to try and blend in near the hunters' boat. Thankfully, they seemed to be too distracted by Pete, Joe, and Andy to even notice Patrick floating alongside.

“I said we're just looking for our friend and you shoot our boat?!” Joe shouted. Patrick could hear the sounds of them attempting to bail water from the bottom of their boat, although they didn't seem to be having much success. 

“You're just trying to stop us or get that mermaid for yourself. Either way, you need to fuck off,” one of the hunters said. A couple of seconds later, and a clicking sound came to Patrick, along with the outline of a spear gun. From the angel he was at it was hard to tell who it was pointed at, but it didn't really matter. All that mattered was the fact that these dicks were actually aiming a weapon at his friends. That was all the proof he needed to try and do something.

In his panic, Patrick raised himself a bit more out of the water than was strictly necessary. He searched his mind for a song that would help, that would make them listen, but he couldn't think of one. Not one single song that he had ever heard or helped to create would explain his anger and hatred and confusion that he held towards the men in front of him.

So instead of singing just one song, he sang many. He combined Pete's lyrics and Joe and Andy's rhythms in ways that shouldn't have worked and yet they seemed to. Both of the men on the hunters' boat froze, their ears clearly zeroing in on Patrick's voice.

Once Patrick was sure he had them under his Song he drifted a little ways away from the boat. There was this strange need to see the hunters who had hurt and threatened his friends and make sure that they saw him when he told them to get the hell out of there and never come back.

So much of his focus was on the hunters' boat that he'd almost forgotten about Pete, Joe, and Andy sinking nearby. As he made eye contact with one of the hunters he could hear Pete crying out.

“Patrick? Patrick!”

Patrick tuned him out, instead choosing to sing a little louder. Usually there was very little need to sing a Siren's Song louder, as most of it was more about the lyrics, rhythm intentions and will of a person than volume, especially once they were already under your spell, yet he sang louder all the same. Doing so felt like it was giving the Song more life and more of a purpose.

“Patrick come on, I'm serious. Get in the boat,” Pete pleaded. He leaned over the slowly deflating boat, much to Andy and Joe's displeasure, and swung his arms through the water. His hand was outstretched, as if he could just pull Patrick back in and save him.

_“Let me take care of you, for once. Just let me help you!”_ Patrick thought as violently as he could towards Pete. He hadn't intended for it to be a command, just a simple plea to the universe about the stubborn man he loved, but apparently it was all the same. Panic flooded Pete's eyes as he pulled all of himself back into the boat, withdrawing his hand from Patrick's direction.

From the look on his face he could tell what Patrick had done, even if he couldn't understand how or why yet.

Patrick closed his eyes and looked away from Pete. Now was not the time to focus on him. When he opened them again he saw both of the hunters staring at him, their eyes wide in astonishment.

“Wow, Jim,” one of them said as he nudged his friend. “Bet you we could fetch a pretty penny for a live one that sings like that.” Patrick's skin crawled in response.

“They call them Sirens,” Jim said. He looked Patrick over, at least the little bit he could see, and tilted his head. “My dad said he's dealt with them before. Or at least one of them. This one kinda looks like what he described.”

Patrick paused in his singing, intrigued by what they were saying. He drifted back a bit more until he was only about ten feet away from Pete's boat. It helped him to have a better picture of the men above them, even with his terrible eyesight.

Now that he was looking at him like this he did have to say, the man did seem to look familiar. But he still looked different, younger somehow, than the man who had broken Patrick's spell and scarred his tail permanently. It would make sense that this Jim guy was the son of such a hunter.

“Really?” the first one asked. “A Siren? Like luring sailors to their death and shit?”

Jim laughed. “Nah, he doesn't seem to be strong enough for that. Just playing tricks and shit.” His hand reached into his pocket and withdrew something too small for Patrick to see. “Just in case, we might as well use these things.”

Dread filled Patrick's gut was he saw the men place ear plugs in their ears. He started singing again, almost screaming at the men, thinking- willing, as hard as he could, sometimes even allowing his actual thoughts to slip through into the song.

_“No, don't do that! Stop, please! Just go away and leave us alone!”_

For once his Song failed. Jim arrogantly smirked at him, like a cat who got the canary. He picked up the spear gun again and set his sights on Patrick.

“What are you gonna do now, Siren?” he asked. Patrick continued to sing, hopelessly hoping that it might be enough to break through. The man laughed, clearly amused by Patrick's helplessness.

He could run. He was fast swimmer; he could probably be gone before the man even blinked. It wouldn't be a permanent solution to their hunter problem, but all of his friends would be safe.

Except for his human friends.

As if knowing exactly what Patrick was thinking, the man let out a snort. “Don't even think about swimming off. If you do, I'll kill these guys.” His eyes barely twitched towards the three humans struggling in the boat.

“Patrick go!” Pete said. “This guy won't hurt us, just go and save your friends.”

It was Pete's honest tone in the end that convinced Patrick to stay. He already knew there was no way he could have left when they were in trouble, but especially not when Pete was so quick to put himself in trouble's path. Hadn't he learned that he was so much more important to him than that by now?

Patrick stopped singing. What was the point? He didn't want to risk enchanting his human friends, and it clearly wasn't working on the hunters.

The man smiled like he knew he had won. He nudged his friend and gestured to something on the floor of the boat that Patrick couldn't see.

“Patrick, go!” “Stump, run!” “Get out of here, please, Patrick, please!”

Patrick turned to see his friends fully. They'd given up their attempts to bail water out of their sinking boat and instead chose to go down like captains. Once it was completely under the water Pete took off swimming, directly for Patrick. He wanted to say something to them, anything that might make any of this better, but he had no words. He might have regained his ability to speak, but his ability to make words come to life clearly belonged inside of Pete.

“Pete-” he said. He wasn't sure if it was going to be a confession, an apology, or a warning to the man he loved, and he never got to find out. Before he knew what was going on a net was flung over his head, and he was dunked under the water.

The second he was under he saw Gabe and Travie, their eyes wide in surprise like his. A second later and their hands were on the net, doing their best to try and pry it off of Patrick.

Suddenly, he felt the net tighten and jerk. He thrashed, knowing what was coming and trying his best to prevent it.

“No! Don't let them take me, please!” Patrick begged. He felt like a little guppie again, hoping someone would save him. Even though Gabe and Travie were only a few years older than him they had always seemed so invincible. Yet, here they were, fighting and unable to stop them from taking Patrick.

He could feel himself being pulled along through the water, Gabe and Travie trailing along behind. They each held tightly to the net, refusing to let go of their friend. Shouts were coming from both of them, but they sounded like white noise in Patrick's panic.

Soon, he was being hauled up and out of the water. He jerked around, trying to force the net back into the water, but nothing worked. Even Gabe and Travie's hands disappeared as the last bit of net was pulled inside.

Patrick slide around on the deck of the boat. He was hoping that his flopping might lead to his release but it seemed as if the men had other ideas.

“There were more down there, did you see that?” the first man asked. Jim apparently had.

He turned on Patrick, the spear gun still ready to use. “Call your friends up here,” he said. Patrick stared at him, his eyes wide with fear but determination in his heart. There was no way he was going to drag his friends into this anymore than he already had. 

He shook his head no. The man jabbed the gun at him, making sure to keep it far enough away from him that it wouldn't touch him, but close enough to scare him. “I said, call them!”

“No! I'm not doing shit for you,” Patrick growled. He flipped his tail around, knocking the man over. The spear gun fell next to him, tangling in Patrick's net. He wiggled, trying to get the gun away from the man and get the net off of him.

“You're going to pay for that you little shit.”

XXX

“I'm still trying to figure out where the news boat was going,” Joe said. “There's really nothing out that way. Especially not when all the action seems to be going on right in front of us.”

“Maybe they got another tip?” Andy guessed. “That's the only reason I could imagine they would leave.”

“Like I said, I guess we'll just have to ask these guys if they've seen Patrick,” Pete said. His voice was tense, and his eyes were focused straight ahead on the fishermen's boat. He knew that they must have seen him, they must know where he was. Pete wouldn't accept anything else.

The closer they got, the more obvious it became that these guys were not going to be up for a conversation. The harpoons, which were mounted to the left and right side of the boat, were still being shot off by the two men on board, despite how close their boat had become.

As soon as they were in shouting range, Pete killed the engine. “Hey!” he yelled. The men reeled the harpoons back in, glancing over at their tiny boat.

“What do you want, kid?” one of them asked. Neither one of them seemed like the type who enjoyed being interrupted while they were working.

Pete looked to Andy and Joe, hoping for some reassurance. Both of them shrugged and nodded their heads, encouraging him.

“We, uh, we were just wondering if you'd seen a friend of ours? His name's Patrick?” he asked.

One of them raised an eyebrow at them. “We're in the middle of the ocean, kid. How exactly were we supposed to have seen him?”

Andy quickly stepped in. “He fell out of the boat,” Andy said. Pete gave him a grateful look, appreciating his nice save. “And we haven't seen him since.”

“You haven't seen him around here, have you? He's got reddish blonde hair, big blue eyes, speaks sign language?” Joe asked.

“I don't think Eddie or I have seen anyone. I think you kids just need to move along,” the fisherman said.

“Are you sure? He was probably headed this way,” Pete asked. He looked around the water, hoping to catch a glimpse of Patrick or that merman who pulled him overboard, but from the angle he was at he could only see dark water.

The guy traced the direction of Pete's eyes. “Like I said, we haven't seen your friend so get going.”

“If you see him, can you just make sure you don't shoot him? We'd kind of like to get him back in one piece,” Andy snarked.

The second man, Eddie, looked to the other man. “Jim,” he started, but was cut off.

“What are you looking at?” Jim asked, his eyes glaring at Pete. He looked around wildly, as if that might help him to see whatever it was Pete was trying to see.

His eyes suddenly narrowed at the three of them. “You guys aren't looking for your friend, are you? You just want all that glory for yourself.”

“These guys are kind of crazy,” Joe muttered under his breath. “What glory? We're just looking for Patrick!” he said louder, addressing the fishermen on the boat.

Jim swung the harpoon around until it was pointed at their tiny, inflatable boat. “Listen, we know you wanna catch the mermaid, but we caught it fair and square.”

“You shouldn't be catching them anyways!” Pete shouted. Even if that merman had dragged Patrick off to do God knows what to him, they didn't deserve to be hunted down. Besides, it had been important enough to Patrick for him to risk his life to help them, it was the least he could do to speak up for them.

“So you guys _are_ trying to stop us!” Jim said. “I knew it, you guys are part of those hippies on the beach!” Before any of them could confirm or deny being part of the “hippies” the harpoon was fired and punched a hole through the bottom of their boat.

Andy almost knocked Joe and Pete both out of the boat in the process of trying to prevent them from being skewered. Joe collapsed against the side, almost toppling straight into the water while Pete fell back against the motor.

“What the fuck?” Joe yelled. “I said we're here just looking for our friend and you shoot our boat?!”

“You're just trying to stop us or get that mermaid for yourself. Either way, you need to fuck off,” Eddie said.

Pete wanted to yell, to rage, to explain to these fucking idiots why you shouldn't shoot harpoons at people in boats, but he couldn't.

Before he could even open his mouth another voice came to him. It was soft and sweet like cotton candy and fresh like the ocean breeze. It, despite being very soft and quiet, was so reminiscent of a rock concert Pete felt like he could start moshing right then and there. The voice was several lines in before he noticed that those were his words that it was singing. And he recognized it.

“Patrick? Patrick!” Pete yelled. Andy and Joe were bailing water next to him, but he paid them no mind. It was as if all of his attention was on that voice, that Song that he knew could only come from Patrick.

He could see Patrick's head bobbing up and down in the waves. What the hell was he doing out here?! Now was the time to escape from the merman and get the hell out of there before any of them got shot with a harpoon.

Patrick was refusing to look at Pete for some reason. Pete could tell. He wasn't sure what exactly he had done to deserve such a response from his... friend (?), but he would do anything to change it.

“Patrick, come on, I'm serious. Get in the boat,” he begged. He leaned against the side of the boat and realized that if Patrick didn't get over there soon there might not be a boat left for him to get into.

He reached out his hand, hoping it would be like a life line for Patrick. He'd saved him, it was only fair that he get to save him now. Or help him at least. He didn't have to do it all alone, and he just wanted him to know that.

_“Let me take care of you. Just let me help you!”_

The words suddenly exploded in Pete's mind as if they had been blasted through a speaker on stage. It was clearly Patrick's voice in his head, he'd know it anywhere, even though he'd only heard it a handful of times. Those were even his own words being parroted back to him from earlier.

The words, while more like a plea, held him like a command. It was as if his feelings of needing to do anything for Patrick had been multiplied, except instead of helping him, he was being forced to climb back inside the boat against his will.

Suddenly Ashlee's comparison of him to a Siren seemed to be pretty accurate.

Eddie seemed amazed. He nudged Jim with his elbow, a sleazy look on his face. “Wow. Bet we could fetch a pretty penny for a live one that sings like that.”

Something turned in Pete's stomach. Patrick was a living, breathing, thinking, _loving_ being. And he was talking about him like he was a fucking circus act. Who did these dicks think they were anyways?

“They call them Sirens,” Jim said. He looked Patrick over like he was a bug under a microscope. Pete would do anything to make sure that man never saw Patrick again. “My dad says he's dealt with them before. Or at least one of them. Kinda sounded a bit like this one looks.”

That beautiful singing voice quietly trailed off. It felt like a sin to ever let him stop singing. How could they not see that they were scaring and disturbing Patrick? One could easily see that through the way he came a little closer to their own sinking boat. If Patrick came any closer or if his Song lightened up its hold on Pete, he was definitely going to grab him and try to keep him safe.

“Really? A Siren? Like luring sailors to their death and shit?”

Pete wanted to beat the fuck out of them. This was Patrick for crying out loud! There was no way he could lead anyone to their death, not even people who were as terrible as them. His Song was too beautiful for that.

Jim let out a bark of a laugh. “Nah, he doesn't seem to be strong enough for that. Just playing tricks and shit.” Pete watched as Jim pulled out a couple of pairs of bright orange ear plugs. “Just in case, we might as well use these.”

Even from a distance Pete could see the panic on Patrick's face. He wasn't quite sure what the panic was being caused by, but he could already tell it wasn't going to be good.

Patrick's soft singing turned into a louder, more desperate version, His Song was constantly interrupted by his voice, still singing, begging for them to listen. It broke Pete's heart. _“No, don't do that! Stop please! Just go away and leave us alone!”_

God, this wasn't fair. Pete would have taken a million years of silence than ever hear Patrick be as scared as he was in that moment.

Jim pointed what looked like a mobile version of a harpoon at Patrick. “What are you going to do now, Siren?” he asked over Patrick's Song. He seemed to be highly amused at Patrick's attempts to sing at them.

“Don't even think about running. If you run, I'll kill these guys.”

God, what was this guy, some kind of superhero villain? There was no way that man was going to commit murder just so he could make a bit of money. Especially not when there were witnesses on the beach to see him do it.

He shifted positions, his Converse quickly filling up with water just like the boat. _“Then again,”_ he thought, _“he did shoot our boat, which could have easily been one of us, and didn't even bat an eye.”_

Still, he couldn't ask Patrick to sacrifice himself for them. It wasn't right! They'd come to save him and that's exactly what they were going to do even if it killed them.

“Patrick, go!” he shouted. They would be okay. “This guy won't hurt us, just go and save your friends.” That's what he needed to do, Pete knew it, he needed to save his friends.

Pete could physically see the indecision leave Patrick's face as he chose to stay. His voice faded away, Pete's lyrics falling out of Patrick's lips for what felt like the last time. He'd never heard a song sound so final in his entire life.

Pete refused to look away from Patrick, hoping that if he stared at him long enough he might be able to command him like he had done to him. He knew it wouldn't work, yet he still prayed that it would.

Andy and Joe both stopped bailing water and started screaming at Patrick like they knew something that he didn't. It took less than a second for Pete to realize what it was.

“Patrick, go!” Andy yelled.

“Stump, run!” Joe added.

Pete needed to warn Patrick while he had a chance. “Get out of here, please, Patrick, please!”

That's when Patrick turned to see him, looked him straight in the eye like he had only ever meant to look at him, like his beautiful blue eyes were made to gaze into Pete's brown eyes for forever and always.

If Pete had a pen with him to describe what eternity was he would vividly describe this exact moment. Where Patrick opened his mouth and said something, probably Pete's name judging by the shape it made, and he was thankful that he had spent the past month or so staring obsessively at his lips to understanding him. This exact moment before a net was forced over Patrick's head and he disappeared under the water.

“Patrick!” Pete yelled. Their boat finally gave up the ghost, sinking below the surface of the water and leaving them swimming. The water around where he had last seen Patrick was violent, churning like crazy.

Occasionally, he caught a glimpse of net, Patrick, scales, and two other bodies. They were all fighting, doing everything that they could to stop them from taking Patrick. Pete swam a couple of feet, but he was no match for the net's speed, and it was already being dragged up the side of the boat.

The first time Pete had seen Patrick he had convinced himself that he was just overdosing and hallucinating due to a lack of oxygen. That was what he had told himself over and over again. His beautiful blue scales and scarred tail and eyes that reminded him of _The Starry Night_ more than he cared to admit. These were things that couldn't actually be real, couldn't actually be a part of this world. Add all these things together, plus the heavenly voice that had come from him and he had the perfect combination for a near death experience.

Yet, he'd held out hope that it had been real. That's why he returned to the pier, looking for Patrick. If he could find him then he could prove that the thing that had made him want to live was real.

And he had found Patrick. Except, not exactly in the way he'd imagined. He was a human now and he'd had no voice. He could have just been any other homeless guy living on the beach, and yet Pete knew he wasn't. His legs were scarred, the same way his tail had been, and there was no way he could ever mistake those eyes.

Now Pete could see all of him, even if it was only for a moment, he knew how right he had been. That blue was as familiar as Patrick's tapping on any flat surface. As familiar as the way Patrick laughed at all of his stupid jokes. The way he'd roll his eyes whenever Pete made a particularly bad one. The way he'd look at him when he thought Pete couldn't see him. He wished that he had told Patrick sooner that he had seen him looking, that he only knew he was looking because he'd been looking, too.

The two bodies were also dragged out briefly, showing that it had been two other mermen holding onto Patrick's net. Neither one of them, he noted, was the merman who had pulled Patrick out of the boat.

The two mermen swam in panicked circles for a few seconds before disappearing under the surface. Pete had no clue where they were going, but he hoped for their sake's, and Patrick's, that it was far away.

“Come on,” Pete said to Andy and Joe. “We've got to help Patrick.”

Joe's eyes skimmed over the boat. “How do we do that if we can't even get up there?”

Now that was something Pete hadn't thought about. The boat was too tall to just climb in, and from the angle they were at there didn't seem to be anyway in from the water.

Before Pete could reply he felt a pair of eyes on him. When he turned his head he saw the two mermen who had tried to help Patrick out of the net, watching him with wide eyes. They seemed to be a strange mix between wary and desperate.

Both of them disappeared under the water for a moment. A second later another pair of mermen appeared a couple of feet away from Pete. A cautious glance was sent up to the boat, but it seemed like both of the fishermen were much too busy with Patrick to notice the two extra bodies in the water.

“Brendon,” the one behind him said, reaching for the other merman who was approaching Pete.

“Brendon” Pete noticed had dark hair and eyes that were constantly glancing behind Pete in the direction of Andy and Joe. Pete could barely see his tail flashing under the water, the purple of it a brilliant and vibrant color. He worried that the color itself might be enough to catch the attention of the men on the boat if they even glanced down, but thankfully they seemed to be way too busy for that.

“C'mon, Gerard, what other options do we have?” Brendon stage whispered. “We can't leave Patrick up there with them!”

Two things registered in Pete's mind at once. One, that the merman apparently knew Patrick well enough to know his name, and two, that he knew the second merman apparently named Gerard.

“You,” Pete said, pointing at Gerard. The merman, the one with the black tail, flinched backwards at Pete's accusing look. “You did this, you took him from the boat and drowned him!”

Andy and Joe swam over, both of them holding Pete away from the two mermen. Both of them were talking to Pete, trying to calm him down in anyway possible.

The first merman sent a questioning look to Gerard. “What is he talking about?” Brendon asked.

Gerard gave Brendon a pleading look, as if he was begging for him to understand. “It was the only way, Brendon. He was going to die unless I did something to break the curse!”

“He did die!” Pete shouted, forgetting that he should stay quiet. “He did. I watched him drown while you held him at the bottom of the ocean. Couldn't you see how scared he was?” Pete paused for a moment, barely managing to choke back his tears. “Couldn't you see that I just wanted to save him?”

He stopped fighting, seeing no point in attacking the merman. Patrick was alive somehow, but he was still in danger, and he'd rather use his energy trying to save the love of his life.

“You took too long!” Gerard defended. “You took too long to break the curse, and he was dying because of it!”

Pete flinched even though he wasn't sure why. This wasn't his fault after all. He had tried to help Patrick! “What the hell are you talking about? What curse?”

The merman let out a cynical laugh. “The curse he inflicted on himself so he could meet you. All because he fell in love with you.”

Pete stared at him, still questioning what he was talking about. None of this was making any sense to him. He was almost too confused to note the fact that someone else knew Patrick loved him. Then again, maybe he'd seen Patrick tell him that earlier.

“He traded his voice for a pair of legs and a chance for you to fall in love with him,” Gerard said sadly. He cast his eyes around, like he was avoiding Pete's eyes. “But I guess you never did.”

“I did, though!” Pete cried out. He'd admitted it before, at least to Joe after Patrick had nearly drowned in the bath tub, but it somehow felt more real to admit to it to more than one person. “I did fall in love.”

Gerard looked him in the eye. “Well then you didn't do it in time. You never kissed him, after all.”

The frown on Pete's face deepened. “How did you know that?” he asked.

Gerard rolled his eyes at Pete like it was obvious. “Because that would have broken the curse. He would have been able to talk, too. True love's kiss breaks the spell.”

“So Patrick really was like the Little Mermaid,” Joe said. Andy nudged him, letting him know that now was maybe not the time for it.

“We almost kissed though, like three different times, does that not count for anything?” Pete asked, exasperatedly. He knew he sounded like a child, but he couldn't help it.

“The curse would only break if you were his true love and you kissed him,” Gerard said. “That's just the way it is.”

Pete thought back to all the times he had nearly kissed Patrick. Every single time they'd almost kissed it had been _Patrick_ trying to kiss him. In the van, while they were dancing, before Andy and Joe came over... Pete hated himself for not realizing sooner exactly how much Patrick had wanted to kiss him.

“Can we just, like, focus on that later?” Brendon asked. He fidgeted, staring up at the boat. “I don't really care about who loves who or not, I just want my friend back.”

Pete and Gerard had the decency to at least look ashamed at Brendon's words. Pete watched at Brendon flitted from side to side, his worry and nervousness coming out in the waves around him.

“Gabe and Travie should be done with their part of the plan by now,” Gerard said, looking towards the back end of the boat. “I guess we just need you guys now.”

“What do you guys need from us?” Andy asked. His face was set with grim determination, and Pete was suddenly unbelievably thankful to have friends as good as Andy and Joe.

Brendon gave them a grim and determined look of his own. “We're going to need you to scream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the love and support going on for this story! It's hard to believe that this story is almost over. Thank you again for all the love and support I've received for this story here and over on my tumblr!


	23. Selfish But Not Hopeless

Patrick twisted in the net, wrapping the spear gun up tighter in the mess. Jim, clearly annoyed and done with him, pulled out a knife and began cutting away at the net.

He clawed his way away from the man, scrambling to try and get to the edge of the boat. He didn't get very far before Eddie stepped on his fin, halting his progress. 

Patrick gasped, jerking his fin in the hopes he might be able to escape. He felt hands grabbing his tail and hauling him back towards the two men. It felt wrong to feel human hands on his scales, especially hands that were so rough and violent. 

He punched at both of them through the net, catching Eddie in the shin and knocking him over. Jim continued cutting through the net, not really freeing Patrick, just making him closer to catching Patrick's tail with the blade instead of the net.

“Get his hands, wrap them up,” Jim commanded. Patrick wasn't sure if Eddie could actually hear Jim or if he had just assumed that was what he should do. Either way, the rough rope was soon binding his hands together, preventing him from fighting back. Even with his superior merman strength he was no match for the humans considering how sick he had spent the past month.

He pushed his bound hands up against Eddie, trying to shove the man off of him. He did stumble back, but only enough to grab a roll of duct tape from his tackle box. The gleam in his eye told him that nothing good was going to come from it.

“Yeah, cover his mouth,” Jim said. “We don't want him to try and sing his way out.”

Patrick wrenched his head from side to side, refusing to be silenced again. “You won't have to worry about that for long,” Patrick gasped. “I'm going to die soon without water, anyways.”

The man didn't seem to understand Patrick, or maybe he just truly didn't care that they were going to kill him. They were probably just going to do that anyways, so he supposed that it didn't make much of a difference.

Jim finished cutting through the net, slicing Patrick's fin in the process. Blood was dripping from the knife's blade as the man flicked it at Eddie. Patrick wanted to scream, but still he couldn't. The stickiness of the tape across his mouth made his skin and his stomach turn.

Jim took his earplugs out, slapping at Eddie's arm. He also took his earplugs out, both of them staring down at Patrick.

Already, Patrick could feel his eyes growing heavy. How many times was he going to drown in a month long span? If he had to experience the feeling of dying this way one more time he was sure it would be his last.

It did give him a sick sense of satisfaction to know that these men weren't going to get what they wanted since he was going to die. At least he would die knowing that. He could only hope that his friends got the hell out of there and never came back, just to ensure their safety.

“Hey! Help us! Hey!” Two voices, Andy and Joe, suddenly came to him. Both of them sounded extremely panicked, which made Patrick's heart rate pick up. Why were they yelling for help, and from the hunters none the less? And why couldn't he hear Pete's voice? Where was he?

“Should we check on them?” Eddie asked. His eyes had roamed towards the front of the boat, clearly debating if he should go and check on them.

Jim rolled his eyes and shrugged. “I guess so.” He didn't exactly sound pleased with the thought of helping them, but he went along anyways.

He couldn't hear what Andy or Joe were saying, as they quieted down once the hunters were within eyesight. He could still hear the panicked tones of their voices, but their words didn't make any sense.

A low, shuffling noise came to Patrick's ears. When he opened his eyes he was sure that he had died and gone to whatever version of heaven was available for mermen. Across the boat, slowly moving in his direction, was none other than Pete Wentz. He was soaked from head to toe, his black hair dripping water onto his face. Briefly, his eyes made contact with Patrick's but they were soon concentrated on the men across the boat.

Patrick wanted to warn Pete, to do anything to make sure he escaped safely with everyone else,but he couldn't. Any movement he did to warn him would alert the hunters.

“Shh,” Pete motioned, obviously hoping that Patrick would have the same thoughts, and clearly he did.

Pete glared at the ropes binding Patrick's hands together and the tape over his mouth. His face visibly paled when he noticed the blood all over Patrick's fin.

“I'm gonna help you, okay? Just, please, be quiet,” Pete whispered. His voice was cracking as he tried to pry the ropes from Patrick's hands. It cut into his fingers, but still he refused to stop.

Despite it being in Patrick's best interest to stay awake, he closed his eyes, his body beginning to give in. The tugs on his bindings got a bit more frantic as Pete's anxiety began to rise. He could tell that Patrick's body was giving up, and he was clearly horrified about it.

“Fine, okay, just hold on, Patrick!”Pete whispered, so quickly it was almost like a prayer. Pete's hands were suddenly on his arms, placing his still tied together hands around his neck. It was like a sick, depressing version of the slow dance they had shared in Pete's apartment.

Patrick let out an embarrassing whimper as Pete hauled him towards the edge of the boat. His fin dragged the bottom of the boat, catching occasionally on the net or any ropes on the deck of the boat. He was slightly longer as a merman than he was as a human even with his shorter than average tail, yet he was surprised by such a length difference between him and Pete.

“What the fuck!?”

They were so close to the edge, so close Patrick could see the water over Pete's shoulder. One slight push and Pete would be able to flip them backwards over the railing.

Still it was too late.

Patrick could feel Pete's arms tighten around him, a strangled _“no”_ coming from his lips as he looked at the men behind Patrick. Before Patrick had truly realized what had happened something slammed into his back, propelling the two of them over the railing.

He felt Pete's arms lock securely around him. He felt the water wash up around them, allowing him to breathe. And then he felt the pain.

XXX

Pete realized about seven seconds too late that they had been caught. A second later and he realized exactly how caught they were. It was too late to turn around, too late to jump over the railing.

Jim picked up his spear gun and leveled it at them. All he could do was murmur _“no”_ before he shot it and forced them over the railing.

The bubbles and water around them instantly turned red. Blood red. Patrick's blood.

A pair of arms grabbed Pete and yanked him further under. When he opened his eyes against the salty water he saw Brendon's horrified face looking back and forth between the two of them.

The water had loosened the tape over Patrick's mouth, allowing it to slide off with a scream. The scream was practically in Pete's ear, surprisingly loud even though it was under water.

Patrick's arms pulled on Pete's neck, arching painfully into him. Not wanting to hurt him anymore than he already was, he tried to gently remove Patrick's arms from around his neck, yet that seemed like the last thing that he wanted.

“Trick!” Brendon yelled. He forced his hands between the two of them, pressing Pete's stomach away from Patrick's. Pete leaned away from his hands, trying to give them enough room.

“It went straight through,” Brendon said, and Pete realized it was directed towards him. He took in Pete's expression and said, “That's a good thing.”

If they weren't underwater he would have asked how the hell that was supposed to be a good thing. 

Brendon quickly showed him. He forced his hands between them, grabbed the tip of the spear and began to twist it.

“Brendon,” Patrick whimpered. “Please, no.” He tried to move closer to Pete, to block his hands from his stomach, yet Brendon persisted. He kept twisting on the end, even though Pete couldn't actually tell what he was doing. Whatever it was, it was causing Patrick an extreme amount of pain.

Pete's lungs were beginning to burn, but he fought against his instincts to return to the surface. The only thing up there were two men who had just shot Patrick... with a _harpoon_.

“Sorry, Trick, sorry,” Brendon said. “Just hold on, okay?” He ran a hand through Patrick's light hair, the blood still managing to run through it despite the water.

“Please, hold him,” Brendon said. Pete, not sure what else he should do, placed his hands on Patrick's hips, right where his scales met his skin. God, his _scales..._

“One, two, three!” Brendon said and ripped the spear from Patrick's body.

Patrick screamed again, arched into Pete one more time, and then went absolutely limp, hanging on to Pete only by his bound wrists.

Brendon pressed his hands to both sides of the wound, slowly leading Pete and Patrick away from the boat. Pete closed his eyes, allowing himself to be led away. It was getting way too hard to do much when he was so lightheaded.

“Help me,” Brendon said to someone that Pete couldn't see. He could feel someone grabbing Patrick's arms and removing them from his neck.

As soon as his arms were free there was a force pulling him upwards, towards the surface. He kicked out, trying to fight to stay with Patrick. Whatever had a hold of him didn't care, however.

He gasped when his head broke the surface. Someone next to him patted his back, encouraging him to breathe deeply.

“Patrick?” Pete asked, his voice cracking. “Where'd he go?” The person- merman, Pete could now tell by the swishing feeling of scales, brushed the hair back from his eyes, giving him a shoulder to rest his head on.

“Pete?” Joe's voice came to him. Despite his pounding head he opened his eyes to try and locate his best friends.

“Are you okay?” Joe asked. His blue eyes were filled with worry and horror, staring at the blood surrounding Pete. “What happened?”

“They shot him,” Pete said in disbelief. “They shot Patrick!” Pete looked around, trying to catch sight of where Patrick had gone.

They had moved a bit away from the boat by now, probably thanks to the mermen around them. The men were facing what appeared to be the wrong way, unless Pete had somehow gotten turned around.

“Are you okay? You didn't get shot?” Joe asked, trying to investigate where all of the blood had come from.

Pete didn't even glance at the merman as he pushed away from him. “No, I didn't get shot, Joe. Patrick did!” What was he not understanding about this? “They fucking harpooned him! And his friend ripped it out of him!”

Joe grimaced at Pete's vivid description and flinched away as Pete approached. Pete grabbed a hold of Joe's shoulders and shook him. “I had a hold of him, and they shot him and he just screamed,” Pete said brokenly.

Joe stared at Pete. “That noise was _Patrick_ screaming?” 

Before he could answer, Andy resurfaced, along with another, unfamiliar merman. This one had dark skin and longer, curly dark hair. His tail was a darker shade of green, almost like a pine tree, that glinted below the surface.

“Where's Patrick?” the merman asked. He took one look at Pete and paled.

“They shot him, Travie,” the merman who had helped Pete to the surface said. “Brendon handed me this before he took off home with Patrick.”

In his hands was the spear, the shaft and the tip of it in two different hands. Now that he was looking at it, Pete could understand what Brendon had been doing before. The two pieces apparently screwed together, and Brendon had disconnected them before pulling the spear out.

“Home? What do you mean home? He needs a hospital!” Pete said.

“You want us to take him to a hospital? Or a vet? You saw what those guys have done to us!” His pale orange tail flickered through the water, full of irritation and anger.

“Gabe,” Travie warned, trying to cut his friend off, but Pete wasn't having any of it.

“We could help him somehow!” Pete yelled. He looked to Andy and Joe for back up, hoping that they would agree, which they did.

“We would do anything for Stump. What are you guys going to be able to do out here for him?” Joe challenged.

“You guys have done enough,” Gabe said. Eyes that Pete was sure were usually kind, were now unfriendly and harsh. “We're going to take care of him.”

“Please,” Pete said, tears falling from his eyes. “I love him.”

“Maybe you loved him too late.”

“Gabe!” Travie barked. An awkward silence fell over the group. It was a good minute before Joe finally spoke.

“So what are you guys going to do about those jackasses?” he asked, jerking his thumb towards the boat.

Andy cleared his throat. “That's actually what we came to tell you. That merman, Gerard, he's doing something weird, kind of like Patrick was doing before.”

“He's a Siren, Gabe,” Travie said, ignoring everyone else. “And his voice was strong, Like, Patrick levels of strong.”

Gabe's brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? I thought it was just a rumor about him actually being a Siren? Isn't Patrick supposed to be the only one around here?”

Travie shrugged, clearly just as confused at he was. “I always thought he had just ran them off or set of traps somehow,” Travie said. “I didn't actually think he was a Siren who Siren sang them away, especially since he stopped doing anything like that after Patrick started.”

Andy looked straight at Pete. It was obvious that he wasn't super interested in the history of the situation at the moment. “He wants to talk to you. He said he's taking care of the hunter's right now but then he'll be over here in a minute.”

Pete couldn't possibly think of a single thing that the merman might wanna speak to him about, after all they hardly knew each other, but he supposed it made about as much sense as anything else in this situation. He could only wonder what “taking care of” the hunter was supposed to mean. Would the Siren drown them like traditional Sirens? Would anyone honestly care if he did at this point?

A few moments later and the black finned merman appeared from below the water. His face was grim, which seemed to match his hair and tail perfectly. Pete wondered if “merfolk” had their own versions of the grim reaper, and if they did would they have looked anything like Gerard in that moment.'

“What did you do with them?” Pete asked, his genuine curiosity and nosy attitude getting the best of him. Deep down was the true concern that was bothering Pete. If Gerard had killed the two fishermen as effortlessly as singing after hurting Patrick, what might he do to Pete and his friends who had taken  
Patrick from them for a month?

Gerard shrugged, seeming to be completely unconcerned with the men now. “I made sure that they will never come back here again. Gabe and Travie messed up their engine enough that they'll be lucky just to get their boat back to shore, much less out on the water again.”

Joe seemed to sense that something was off. “You made sure that they'll never come back? How did you do that?” he asked. The tense and uncomfortable look on his face told him he too and had the same thoughts as Pete moments before.

“I Sang to them and made it clear that they next time they showed up or decided to hurt one of us that they wouldn't be getting off so lucky,” Gerard said steadily. His voice never wavered, but it did send shivers down Pete's spine.

“So you just sang, and they just agreed and went away?” Joe asked, his voice rising a little in a hysterical tone. “If you could have done that all along then why the fuck didn't you?” He glanced around between the humans and mermen floating in the water. “Why the fuck did we have to come out here and do anything for you?”

“Joe-,” Andy warned, but he was ignored. 

“No!” Joe spun in a circle, splashing water up all around him and wasting energy. Pete knew that if they were going to have any hope swimming back to shore they would need all the energy that they could get, and they wouldn't get that with him wasting energy.

“Our friend just risked his life to save our other friend- someone who's supposed to be your friend!- and you could have just sang and sent them away like it was nothing? No, this is bullshit.” If looks could kill Gerard would have literally exploded or melted away right on the spot.

“It's not that simple,” Gerard said. His appearance was calm, but Pete could see something in his eyes. They were still staring right back at Joe yet they also seemed to be flickering to somewhere else. 

“Then what is it?” Andy asked. He's moved closer to Joe, trying to quiet him down before he got them all drowned but also not willing to let it go. 

“I'm not supposed to interfere! I'm not supposed to Sing anymore! That was part of the deal, part of the trade,” he said, his voice and facade cracking. His brown eyes shot away from Joe's and directly to Pete's, pleadingly as if he was supposed to understand.

“What trade?” Pete asked carefully. There was so much more going on here, Pete could sense it, but he still didn't understand what it was just yet.

Gerard sank below the surface for a second, as if he had been defeated. When he came back up he let out a huge and exasperated sigh. “You seem to understand that Patrick traded his voice for a chance to go on land with you guys, right?” he asked. All three humans nodded. “Well, I made that trade a long time ago, too. Except I fucked it up.”

He looked away towards the beach, a wistful look tinged with anger on his face. “I fucked it up. I didn't get a human to fall in love with me or kiss me before my time was up, so I had to go back. Kind of like Patrick did.”

He turned his head back to Pete and leveled his look at him. “But I got another chance. The mermaid who had had the bottle that holds the curse before offered me another way. All I had to do was not Sing and make another merfolk succeeded where I had failed and get them to have a true love's kiss with a human.”

A silence fell over the group. The only noise was the water splashing all around them, gradually seeming to get louder and louder the longer they stayed out there. Again, the thought of how far shore was popped into Pete's head.

“So that's why you stopped doing the Siren thing after Patrick came along,” Gabe said. 

Gerard nodded. “I didn't want to leave you guys without a Siren. I mean, look at what managed to happen in the month he was gone,” Gerard said, gesturing to everything around them. “When he took over as Siren, I figured that would be a good time for me to stop.”

“I didn't plan on it being him who found me wanting to be human though, honest. But when he first came to me he just looked so sad and so heartbroken... He reminded me of myself too much to not want to help him.”

“So you don't Sing anymore?” Travie asked, curiosity getting the best of him. “Then how are you alive? You told Brendon that Patrick would die if he didn't Sing as a Siren.”

Gerard let out a bitter laugh. “That part is still true. It was just killing Patrick quicker because he was also out of the water. If he had started out healthy and whole as a merman and not Singing he would have had nearly twice as long before any consequences began to take effect.”

Again he sighed and sank below the surface. A second later he popped back up, clearly aware that the humans wouldn't be able to understand him as well through the water. “Look, it was selfish. I'll admit that. But haven't you ever been selfish before?” He turned to look at Pete. “Wouldn't you do the same thing for Patrick?”

Pete wanted to deny it. He wanted to say 'of course not, because his friends and their safety was more important than his happiness', but he knew that that wasn't true. He'd been selfish before when he had made the decision to kill himself, not really caring how it would affect his friends as he would have been gone by that point. He wanted to say that he would never have chosen his own happiness (or lack thereof) over the safety and well being of anyone else, but he didn't like being a selfish liar.

“I think,” Pete said slowly. “That Patrick would want me to make the decision that made everyone the happiest, not just him or myself.”

Gerard nodded his head, a small smile spreading across his face. “I think he would, too.”

There were still a million and one questions that Pete had for them, like where had they taken Patrick? Could he do anything to help them? When would he be able to see him again? What were they planning to do about the hunters and the news crew floating along somewhere? But he knew that he wasn't likely to be getting any of those questions answered any time soon, as the treading water issue was starting to become more and more apparent.

“God my legs are tired,” Joe grumbled lowly, his legs continuing to kick underneath him. It was his own way of breaking the tension, by bitching about something that everyone else was also likely feeling, and it worked like a charm.

“We could help you guys get back to land if you want,” Gabe offered. He looked a little reluctant to offer help, likely the argument with Pete still fresh in his mind, yet he was doing it none the less. He held out a hand to Joe, who gratefully took it. 

In one smooth motion he had slung Joe's arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around his waist and pulling him in close. Gabe shrugged and offered the same to Andy, which left Pete with Gerard.

“Do you guys know the beach with all the rocks? It's a little ways south of here?” Pete could hear Andy ask, explaining the place where Pete had parked the van. “Yeah, it should still be empty, hardly anyone but us goes there because the rocks on the beach are kind of sharp.”

And so they started off, awkwardly swimming along with the mermen helping them get back home. Pete couldn't help but wonder if he actually had somehow died that night and everything that had happened since was some sort of strange and dying dream that his mind had come up with, but he dismissed it. He was certainly poetic, but he doubted that even he could have imagined falling in love with a Siren.

They'd been swimming along for ten minutes before Gerard spoke again. They'd managed to pull back a little from the others, and his voice somehow felt secretive, as if it was actually only meant for Pete to hear.

“So I've got a question for you,” Gerard asked.

It threw Pete for a loop but he shrugged. “Um, sure, go for it.”

“So the whole merfolk thing is pretty much out of the bag by now, I guess,” he said with a shrug, somewhat directed towards the beach. “So what do you plan to do?”

He knew confusion must have been obvious on his face, but he wasn't sure as to what he should actually say. “What do I plan to do?”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Yeah, what you plan to do. You're boyfriend is a merman after all, so what exactly is your plan for the future?”

All thought had screeched to a halt inside his mind. One, the use of the word 'boyfriend' had thrown him probably more than it should have and caused his face to heat up more than he would have liked to admit. Two, he was still processing the fact that Patrick was actually a merman, and the fact that he had watched him get shot. Three, that another Siren was currently helping him get back to his van, along with his friends and two other mermen. Now he was being asked about his _future?_

Until earlier this month he hadn't really planned on having any future at all, good or bad. After meeting Patrick he was more inspired to do his music again, more interested in hanging out with his friends, just more interesting in life in general again. He knew that it hadn't been instantly better and that it wouldn't stay better all the time, but he had still at least been planning for a future, any future at all now.

Before Patrick had started to get sicker, before he had actually considered just how deep his feelings for Patrick went, he had thought about the band. Of course Andy and Joe were down to play for however long they thought they might be able to get away with doing it, but then there was Patrick. The look on his face that night in the club and his excitement about music in general told him that he would at least play a few more shows, but how long did he really want to do that? Would he have really been content to spend whatever days they had left together that way?

Pete must have paused for too long, because Gerard continued.

“I'm sorry, that's not a fair thing to ask I suppose. We won't be staying here for long anyways,” he said.

A cold chill ran over Pete as he took in Gerard's words despite the warm summer sun. “What are you talking about?”

A dark look came over Gerard's face. “Did you not see all the news crews covering Brendon's capture, not to mention all the people on the beach? There's no way we could be able to stay here for much longer. Even if those hunters are forced to stay away more will just come.”

The words seemed to just fall from Gerard's mouth into the water around them. “I guess I hadn't considered that fact,” Pete said, his words dead to even his ears.

“We'll probably wait until Patrick's recovered enough before we move, though,” Gerard said, as if that might somehow still be hopeful. 

“Wait, you're taking Patrick with you?” Pete asked. He knew that he was thinking slowly, that this conversation should have probably been obvious to him right off the bat, but it wasn't.

Gerard gave him a sympathetic but confused look. “What did you really expect? That we would leave him here by himself?”

“He's not by himself, he's got us!” Pete said, a little louder than he intended. Andy glanced back at them but didn't try to come back there, which he was thankful for. He probably would have actually broken down if Andy had asked what was wrong.

“He can't live out here by himself, though, Pete. What, did you think that you would just visit him every day by the beach? What about when that gets old or you get tired or doing that? Or you get tired of not being able to do all the things that you guys have been doing for the past month? Not to mention how dangerous it will be if he continues to stay here,” Gerard said.

The thought of Patrick moving on devastated Pete. They had only known each other for a month, but if had felt so much longer than that, as if they were like soulmates or something. Pete wasn't sure he believed whole-heartedly in the whole 'one person for everyone', but he did believe that he had found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

He would miss the way he played guitar to calm Pete down and tapped on every available surface to calm his own nerves down. The way his eyes would light up at the simplest of things like pizza or the mountains or some strange infomercial during one of their late night TV watching sessions.

He would miss him, but if it meant he would be safe, then he would have to let him go.

“Okay,” Pete said quietly. “Okay. As long as you guys swear to take care of him, I guess I just have to accept that.”

Gerard looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Do you really mean that? You'd be okay with letting him go?”

“I'd be completely heartbroken,” Pete said. “But I can't ask him to stay here if he would be in danger or if you guys need him. That's selfish, right?”

A small smile came across Gerard's face. “Selfish, but not hopeless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about such a long update wait...


	24. No Coincidences, Just Miracles By The Boatload

The next two weeks passed by in a flurry of activity. The entire colony was scrambling to gather up everything that they possibly could, tie up any loose ends, and prepare for traveling to a new home most of them had never been to before. It wasn't going to be easy, but everyone knew that it was the best option at the moment.

“Do you wanna sit up?” Brendon asked, leaning over the top of Patrick. His eyes were tired and stressed, a certain amount of anxious that was actually hard to quantify. His body blocked most of the light from coming into the cave, just the way Patrick liked it, although Brendon seemed to be oblivious to this. Every time he stopped by he would try to let in a little more light, pulling back the sea weed and old cloths that someone had been kind enough to hang over Patrick's cave opening.

Patrick didn't say anything. In fact, he hadn't said anything since he'd woken up after they had managed to stop the bleeding and move him back to his own home to recover.

Brendon would be lying if he said that this didn't worry him. Patrick was never quiet. Even when he hadn't been able to talk he'd still found a way to communicate, yet now it was like he had completely withdrawn into himself, like he had no desire to talk to any of them.

“Okay,” Brendon said, drawing the word out a bit. He reached over until he could get a good look at where the spear had hit. Not even this drew a reaction from Patrick, although Brendon was sure that this was painful or at least annoying. It seemed to be healing just fine, but he was sure that something must be wrong if Patrick still wasn't talking.

“Here, let me just,” Brendon said, sliding his arms around Patrick until he was able to at least roll him over. All the while Patrick's face kept a passive, spaced-out look, never once meeting Brendon's eyes.

“There, that's better. Let a bit more light in here this way,” Brendon said, although it was apparent Patrick didn't care either way. He stared nervously at his friend, wondering again and again if they had been correct when they had said he wasn't hurt in any other way other than the spear.

He'd been a bit banged up here and there from the events at had occurred, as well as having a new wicked scar to add to the collection thanks to the spear, but other than that he was fine. He'd lost weight and clearly hadn't been in the best place for his health, but a few meals and a little rest should have been enough to fix it. At least that's what the merfolk helping him had said. 

Yet Patrick still refused to talk. Brendon knew he could, he'd heard him himself that day he had returned as a merman, yet he'd refused to say another word after that. Ever since they'd patched him up he had been as silent as the grave.

“Everyone's almost ready for the move, you know,” Brendon said. He'd always been good at talking about nothing, but these days he seemed to excel at it. “I hear that the other colony that we're joining with also has a Siren. She's not as good as you though; I know that for a fact.”

Still he said nothing. Brendon knew that if this were the old Patrick he would have instantly been up at the mention of a move and another Siren. They'd lived here almost their entire lives, it seemed insane to think of living anywhere else. They'd also had such limited interactions with other Sirens that he would have loved to learn any sort of perspective she had on the whole thing, regardless of the fact that Brendon knew he was better at it than her.

A long, heaving sigh came from Brendon's lips. The entry way to the cave began to darken as clouds rolled over the sun up on the surface. “I'll be back soon, okay Trick?” he asked. He waited for a response he knew wasn't coming before sighing again and heading back out.

XXXX

Two weeks. Two weeks since the last time he had seen Patrick. Two weeks since he'd last played music. Two weeks since he'd last done anything other than rent some diving materials and a boat and head out onto the ocean. 

Two weeks since he'd lost his damn mind.

Joe and Andy had done the best they could for him, offering to stay over or to have him stay over with them, but that wasn't what he wanted. He could tell that they were worried about him, and he had to admit that he didn't blame them. He knew he was being a bit manic, a bit like he had Before. 

This is what led him to spend almost all of his money renting a tiny, leaky boat and enough diving gear to make sure his dumb ass wouldn't drown at the bottom of the ocean.

He had no idea what exactly he was looking for, but he figured he'd know when he saw it. These merfolk had managed to live this close to humans for a relatively long time before everything had gone to hell in a hand basket, so he wasn't sure what made him think that he'd be able to start diving and find them so easily, but he knew that he had to try. Surely there would be some kind of hint as to where to look for them at, as long as they hadn't left yet that was.

Which was a thought Pete refused to actually consider. There was no way that Patrick was already gone from his life forever.

He hadn't been lying when he told Gerard that he would willingly let Patrick go; he just thought he deserved a proper good-bye first. Surely, after all they had been through, Patrick would also want that.

Yet there was no sign of any sort of merfolk around that he could see. The bottom of the ocean looked exactly like he would have imagined it would look.

He surfaced for the final time that day, wondering at what point this would all be hopeless. Sooner or later, Patrick's friends would load up and they would be gone for good. He could only hope that they hadn't left yet.

A storm was rolling in from the sea, signaling an early end to his search. He might be a bit manic right now, but he wasn't going to be completely reckless.

He drove the boat back to the rocky beach where he had parked the van again. Sooner or later Joe was going to get tired of lending him his van day in and day out, but until then Pete was going to take full advantage of its hauling and storage capabilities.

His apartment was too cold and too dark when he got back home. All around him were traces of Patrick, from his clothes to the movies he had stacked in a pile on one of the shelves in preparation for their next movie marathon to the utter silence the filled everything. 

When Ashlee and him had broken up he had truly believed that was as lonely as he could possibly be. He'd lost his girlfriend, their band had been struggling to find a singer, and he'd just felt like nothing was going right in his life. Now, standing there and listening to the absolute silence and emptiness that used to be filled with music and constant tapping, he was convinced that he had in fact been wrong.

He laid down on the couch and curled up in the blanket Patrick used to have on his bed. When he'd first pulled it off of his bed it had smelled exactly like him, yet the longer he laid in it the more it smelled like himself. He knew he should take a shower, the salt that was built up on his skin already beginning to itch, but he didn't have the energy to get up and actually do that just yet.

He must have drifted off to sleep at some point, because the next thing he knew he could hear a banging coming from his front door. The last thing he wanted to do was open the door and have to juggle a worried Joe or Andy, especially not with the state he and his apartment were in.

“Go away,” Pete shouted, hoping that they would be able to hear him through his door. Unfortunately the banging continued.

After a couple more minutes of the non-stop knocking, Pete was actually pissed. Joe and Andy had keys to get into the apartment if they honestly deemed it that important to get in there, so why the hell weren't they just using them? 

Once it became obvious that they weren't going to use a key to let themselves in, he heaved a sigh and trudged his way over to the door. The banging continued until he ripped it open, nearly taking it off of its hinges.

Standing there, in the middle of a downpour, was Hayley. Her red-orange hair was plastered to her face, and her fist was still raised, ready to knock again. Her eyes grew wide in shock as her brain registered Pete had opened the door, before shoving Pete inside and slamming the door behind her.

“Thank God, I was beginning to wonder if you were even home!” she said. She shook her head slightly, water droplets raining across Pete and the couch.

“What are you doing here?” Pete asked. “And when did it start raining?” 

She gave him a confused look. “Are you high right now?” she asked him. “It's been pouring for like three hours.” She paused, waiting to see if he had anything to say. When it became obvious that he had no response for that she continued. “I'm here about Patrick.”

Pete could feel his face grow cold at the mention of Patrick's name. “He's gone,” Pete said, hoping his tone would be enough to keep her from asking anymore questions.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, okay. But you owe me so many explanations right now that my head just might explode, so in exchange for those explanations I might just tell you where to find him.”

What the hell was she talking about? She knew nothing about anything that had been going on recently, especially the merman related situations. What could she possibly know about Patrick?

Despite doubting her knowledge of anything, his curiosity was piqued. “What are you talking about?”

Her smile was so large it almost split her face. “Does the name Brendon or Gerard ring any bells?”

XXXXXXXX

Brendon found Gerard exactly where Patrick had found him the first time: at the bottom of the trench. He wasn't sure if he was packing up to leave like the rest of them, and if so, would he be coming with them? Brendon knew that everyone would accept, even welcome him, but he knew with the way he acted it might not be the best idea. He seemed to have grown accustomed to living by himself.

The trench was dim, even darker than it was the first time they were down there due to the storm that was brewing overhead. His cave, however, was still rather easy to find as he had some of the underwater flashlights lighting it up.

“Gerard?” Brendon called out, glancing inside. Gerard was swimming around, gathering up the last of his belongings.

He paused and glanced at Brendon. “Hey?” he asked, clearly unsure as to what the younger merman was doing there.

Brendon swished his fin through the water, debating on how to word his next question. He'd had a lot of time to think it over as he'd watched over Patrick the last two weeks, yet here in the moment he was still uncertain.

“I know you were trying not to Sing,” Brendon started. “But, since you've already broken that I was wondering if you'd be willing to break it again.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow at his question. “How? And what for?”

He swished his tail again, nervously shrugging his shoulders. “Well, it's just that Patrick hasn't said anything since he woke up, and I'm really worried. I just think that if he could see Pete, at least one more time, that it would help him be able to move on, you know? They kind of... ended on a bad note.”

The older merman crossed his arms, a considering look on his face. “So what exactly is your idea?”

“Well, I know Pete's been looking for him,” Brendon said. He hadn't seen him doing so, but there were several reports from merfolk on the look out that a dark haired human had taken to diving closer and closer to where they lived. The description had pretty obviously been Pete, or so Brendon was convinced. “So I was just wondering if you could maybe Sing to get his attention? I need to talk to him.”

Gerard looked out beyond the cave. Even the water felt different already, colder somehow despite the depth. “There's a storm coming. Do you really think that he's going to be out there today?”

Brendon hadn't really considered that. Any sane human would be packing up and going home by now. But from what Brendon could tell Pete wasn't the average human. There was at least a chance that he might still be out there. He told Gerard as such, hoping that he would agree with him. 

Gerard sighed and put down the bag he had been placing his things in. “I do one Song for Pete. If he doesn't come, well then that's too bad.”

“Of course, yeah, totally,” Brendon said, nodding his head up and down. Quickly he began to usher Gerard out of the cave and towards the surface and the direction that Pete had been last seen in. Hopefully, he would still be there and they'd be able to convince him to go and see Patrick.

The Song Gerard sang was simple but enticing. They waited just under the surface for a glimpse of the familiar human, yet one never came. If Pete had been anywhere nearby he would have practically swam over himself to get to them, but he never showed up.

Gerard turned back to look at Brendon. “I guess he was smart and headed home before the storm.”

A quick hand was ran over Brendon's forehead and through his hair. “Shit. We don't have time for this.”

Thunder rumbled through sky. Gerard cast a thoughtful look up to the surface and the clouds beyond. “You could always try to find him tomorrow. I'm sure he'll be back. If the rumors are true, he's been out here almost every day for the past two weeks.”

A frustrated groan tore free from him. “We're moving tomorrow. Gabe and Travie didn't want me to tell Patrick until today because they were afraid that it would upset him, but they want move him before the rest of the colony. He's not getting better here, and they hope that a change of scenery might help? I don't know.”

It's obvious to Brendon that Gerard at least understands the urgency of his mission now. Once they move Patrick away it's unlikely that they would ever come back here. 

Thunder crashed again, low and loud in the distance. Both of them jumped, startled by the sudden noise.

“Maybe I can Sing one more Song,” Gerard said.

“What good will that do?” Brendon said moodily. “Pete's obviously not here.”

A mischievous grin came over Gerard's face, a look that instantly made Brendon shudder. “No, but I'm sure there's another human up there who might be willing to help. After all, I only said I'd Sing one Song for _Pete_.”

XXXX

“So, they're real mermen? Like, they're actually real?” Hayley asked as she climbed into Joe's van. Her nose scrunched as she took in all of the fast food bags littering the floor, and Pete's clothes that were cluttering the back. “Jesus, I've seen homeless people living cleaner than this.”

Pete rolled his eyes, once for her questions and again for her statement. “Yeah, they weren't wearing fake tails or anything. Why do you think you wanted to listen to anything Gerard said? He's a Siren.”

Hayley nodded as if that made any sort of sense. “Okay. So yeah, like I was saying. I was on the beach trying to help some of the guys secure their stuff before the storm hit, when I heard it. He sang to me or whatever just as it started raining, and I suddenly wanted to just go to that private beach near the pier? Anyways, I climbed the rocks to get there and there were these two people sitting in the water staring at me. Which, yeah weird.” Pete snorted.

“Anyways, once I got over to them they pulled themselves up out of the water and that's when I saw their fins.” She gestured down to her legs, as if Pete needed it to be explained. “So after I freaked out, they started to explain somethings to me. Which is more than you ever did,” she said rather pointedly.

“Sorry,” Pete said, although he didn't sound very sorry. “I really did mean to come back and tell you what happened.”

She waved him away, as if it truly didn't bother her anymore. “Yeah, well you didn't. But they told me that they had Patrick and that he had been hurt and was really a merman and that I needed to get you because he wanted to see you.”

Pete's eyes lit up at that. “He said that? He said that he wanted to see me?” he asked.

Hayley shifted in her seat, her feet kicking several bags around. “I don't know, I'm just telling you what they told me. They said that he needed to see you.” She paused and turned to look directly at him. “His friends seemed to be really worried about him. Worried enough that they would brave a storm like this for him.”

Pete squinted through the windshield where his wipers were going at full blast. It went against his every instinct to be driving towards the pier in weather like this, but he supposed that was his life in a nutshell.

“And you must be pretty worried about him, too, if you're willing to go diving into the ocean like this,” she said knowingly.

“What about you? You went to the private beach and drove to get me.”

“Oh, I was compelled though. You're just doing this out of love,” she teased.

A blush spread over Pete's face. Pete highly doubted that Hayley had been compelled to do all of this, but he didn't call her on it. He also didn't deny the reason why he was doing it, as it seemed to be completely useless.

The rain was almost a solid sheet by the time they reached the pier. Hayley helped to carry some of the gear he would need to dive, but it was still difficult to even make it to the water. Waves were pounding against the shore in violent rhythms, causing Hayley to look over at Pete with worry.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked. Even if she was the one who had dragged him down there, seeing the water beat against the shore was enough to make her question the decision. 

Pete struggled to get the oxygen tank on. It was already slippery from the rain and his goggles were all but impossible to put on. 

“I came all this way down here. I might as well go, right?” he asked. 

Hayley glanced up at the sky just as lightening shot across it. By the time she looked back Pete was already gone, the only trace that he had even been there was the backpack he had dropped on to the pier.

“Be careful!” she yelled, even though she knew there was no way he could hear her.

XXXX

The water had a weird way of dulling and increasing the thunder coming from above. It was louder, but less sharp, rounded instead by the swirling water around him. Below the surface it was as dark as night, making it almost impossible to see. He wondered how he was supposed to be able to find Brendon or Gerard if he could hardly see his hand in front of his face.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wonder for long. 

Slowly, a hand wrapped itself around Pete's arm, causing him to try and jerk away in fright. Another hand joined the first, cold and clammy against his skin, and held him in place. It was almost impossible to see anything, but once he calmed down he could tell it was the merman Brendon in front of him.

The merman's face had split into a huge grin. “Oh thank Poseidon!” Brendon breathed out. “I was afraid you wouldn't come.”

It was impossible for Pete to reply underwater, and he was sure that Brendon didn't know any sign language, just like Patrick hadn't.

He tried to give him his best confused face, but he wasn't sure how it came across through the mask. 

“You are here for Patrick, right?” Brendon asked, as if there was any other reason Pete might be under the water during a storm.

Pete nodded. The water rolled bringing him a bit further from Brendon, who quickly pulled him closer to himself.

“Oh thank Poseidon again,” he said. He wrapped an arm around Pete's body and slowly began to drag him down and further out to sea.

“We can't get him to talk. Like at all. He won't get out of bed or eat or anything,” Brendon said. His voice was nervous and it was clear that he was obviously worried about his friend. A tight feeling in Pete's chest made itself known at Brendon's words and refused to go anywhere. The description of Patrick's state reminded him of a few of his own more recent states, which left a bad taste in Pete's mouth. Patrick wasn't supposed to be like that. He should be happy and excited and full of life.

It was obvious from the look on Brendon's face and his words that that was pretty much the exact opposite of what he was right now.

It wasn't long before they reached a few caves, almost perfectly blended into the sand. The rocks that created them were the same color as the sand and the entrances were rather low and covered with seaweed, making it almost impossible to see unless someone was coming towards them at the angle they were.

A cluster of seaweed moved back, revealing Gerard. He gave a tight smile to Pete before turning to Brendon. “He's still not answering me. I thought that if I tried to convince him Pete was coming he might at least get up but...” He shrugged, letting the sentence drop off.

Brendon held out an arm, gesturing towards the opening. “Well, go on in,” he said, as if it were really that simple.

Pete had been looking for Patrick for about two weeks now. He'd also been convinced that he would never see him again. Now here he was, a few feet from seeing him again, and it was like he was frozen in place. 

What was he going to say to him? What could he say to him? One, they were under water and his limited knowledge of sign language wouldn't be enough to help him explain what it was he was feeling, and two, he wasn't sure exactly what it was that he was wanting to say to him. Did he say that he loved him? Did he express to him that this didn't matter to him? Did he say that he had missed him so much more than he had ever missed another person before?

Did it even matter what he said to him?

Slowly, as if he were moving through syrup instead of water, he eased forward into the darkness. It took him a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the brief and minute amount of light coming in through the opening to even make out a foot in front of him. When he did he was frozen in place again.

Laying in the bottom of the cave was Patrick, his form covered up by seaweed woven together to make a strange blanket. It did little to hide how thin he had gotten or how pale he looked even in the low light.

_'It does so little to hide how dead he looks,'_ Pete thought morbidly. He'd never personally seen a dead body before, but Pete had a guess that that was exactly what one would look like. His blue eyes were closed, his dark blonde lashes resting against his cheeks gently as if he were truly only resting peacefully at the bottom of the ocean. His hair, the interesting shade of reddish-blonde that Pete had loved was now dark against his pale skin, appearing to loses all trace of color in this washed out world underwater.

' _Exactly like a dead person,'_ Pete thought again.

Brendon nudged him from behind, sensing that he needed a little encouragement in order to get him to move. Pete flapped his arms a few times, somehow managing to not move too far in the process. He glared at Brendon, who could only sheepishly shrug in defense.

Had they been on land Pete would have sighed and tip toed over to Patrick, so as to not disturb him. As it was, he flipped Brendon off, hoping he wasn't the type of merman to get pissed off and drown him, and made his way over to Patrick as slowly as he possibly could.

His efforts were so soft that the water was barely even disturbed in the cave at all. Soon, he was at Patrick's side, looking down and debating what the best way to go about this would be.

He slid his arms under Patrick, hoping that it wouldn't startle him to be moved in such a way. He continued to lift him until he was in his lap, Pete finally resting on the sandy bottom.

Gently, he tapped his face. He wished he could call out to him and wondered if that was what Patrick had felt the entire time he was human. He couldn't even use sign language if Patrick wouldn't even open his eyes!

“Patrick,” Brendon said quietly, as if Patrick were so fragile that his words could break him. “Pete's here.”

There was no reaction.

Pete looked up to the two mermen floating beside him. He gestured to Patrick, as if asking them to try again or if this is what he had been like the whole time since he'd been turned back into a merman.

“Patrick,” Gerard said, easing down to their level. He took a hold of Patrick's arm and gently shook him, trying anything to get him to open his eyes. “C'mon Patrick, Pete's here, and I'm sure he'd be happy to have you say something to him.”

A crease formed between Patrick's brows. It was one that Pete had seen an awful lot of lately, one that he knew meant that Patrick was in pain and fighting it. It hurt Pete's heart to know that the one he was in love with was in so much pain and there was nothing he could do it stop it. If anything, he was probably the one making it worse.

“C'mon Trick, open your eyes for us,” Brendon encouraged. His voice was filled with tears, and Pete could tell that it wasn't only him that these past few weeks had been hard on.

Slowly, so slowly Pete almost missed it, Patrick's eyes began to open. A tiny sliver of blue appeared, almost unnoticeable in the dim light. Pete's heart nearly stopped as he watched the eyes slowly open more and more, until they were staring back into Pete's eyes. It took nearly a solid five seconds before recognition began to show in his eyes, but when it did Pete could pin point it to almost the exact moment.

Weakly, Patrick pushed against him, trying to get some distance between them so he could have a better view of Pete. Confusion was the main thing on his face, slowly taking in the scuba tank and everything else with him in the cave.

He opened his mouth and the smallest voice came out. “Pete?” he asked, as if he was still unsure. 

Pete quickly nodded his head, his eyes never leaving Patrick's. 

Patrick looked around, his head almost lulling to the side. “What? How did you get here?” he asked.

Brendon and Gerard stood in the entrance, neither one of them wanting to interrupt the moment between the two of them. When it became obvious that Pete wasn't going to be able to explain anything Brendon stepped in.

“He was trying to find you,” Brendon said quietly. “We found him and brought him here.”

Patrick looked at Pete in amazement. “You were trying to find me?” he asked.

Pete nodded. He needed to explain, needed to tell him the kind of hell that he had been going through wondering if Patrick was okay or where he was. Yet, he couldn't do that right then. 

Instead he settled for what he could do.

“ _I love you,_ ” Pete signed, hoping he got it right. He signed it again and again and again, like he would never be able to sign or speak it enough.

Slowly, Patrick raised his arms, although it was obvious that it took a lot of strength to do so. He wrapped them around Pete's neck, pulling him close to him despite the scuba gear. 

“I love you,” Patrick almost whispered. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I wanna say that everyday,” Patrick said. Pete could almost hear the musical tone in this voice, the rhythm almost hypnotizing even though he wasn't singing.

Pete clung to Patrick so tight, as if he were afraid he'd slip away from him right before his eyes. Hell, he almost had and still might at this rate. It was obvious that Patrick was still weak, whether that was from his injury or something else Pete wasn't entirely sure, and he still needed attention. He was oddly thin considering what he had looked like when Pete had first met him, and his skin was sickly pale.

The water was filled with the sounds of the storm above, the thunder nothing but a distant rumble. Pete looked towards the entrance of the cave, towards the surface, and glanced back at what he could see of Patrick. Despite the fact that he could not see his face he could tell that he was tired. His limp form of a hug was telling him that.

The strength of the hug allowed him to be able to wiggle his arm free and wave at Brendon and Gerard. He pointed his thumb up towards the surface and then pointed to Patrick, hoping that they would get the idea.

In spite of the hesitation on their faces they eventually complied. Brendon placed his arms under Patrick's despite his protests that he could swim on his own, and Gerard grabbed onto Pete. This trip was much less desperate than the first trip with Brendon had been, and for that Pete was thankful. Soon the surface was within sight, revealing all the lighting and rain that was occurring.

Brendon held onto Patrick, just as he had when he was human. It was apparent that he felt some sort of responsibility to Patrick, even now that he had managed to become a merman again. Gerard pulled Pete to the surface and then released him, almost pushing him towards Brendon and Patrick. A dirty glare was shot from Brendon to Gerard, although it was ignored.

Pete ripped his mask off, shoving it until it was off his face and yanked his hair in all sorts of directions. He needed to be able to see Patrick without having to look at him through foggy goggles.

Patrick's hair, a bit longer than he usually wore it, was hanging low and limply in his eyes. His smile was still as wide as always when he took in Pete's odd hair, even briefly reaching a hand up to run his fingers through it. Pete tried to ignore how shaky Patrick's hand was when he did so.

“Hey,” Patrick said shyly. It was beautiful, something that Pete wished he had been listening to for the past few months.

“Hey,” Pete whispered, barely audible over the waves and the thunder. 

Patrick smile was tired. He eased himself out of Brendon's arms and wrapped his own around Pete's neck. Pete smiled as well, wondering who was actually keeping who afloat at this point.

The waves tossed them back and forth, the rain pounding down on their heads. Even with the terrible weather Pete was convinced that he had never been in a more perfect moment before.

“So I'm going to do something that I should have done before, okay?” Pete asked. “Something I should have realized you were trying to do a long time ago.”

Patrick scrunched his eyebrows in confusion at his words. “Okay?” he agreed, barely even getting out the word before Pete was on his lips.

Pete's lips weren't soft, they were chapped and rough from him worrying them between his teeth, like Patrick had witnessed many times before. Yet his kiss was soft and gentle with just a hint of desperation to it, as if he were afraid that Patrick would disappear right before him if he took his lips off his for even a moment.

“Please work,” Gerard's voice filtered over the storm. Pete wanted to ask him what it was he was talking about, but before he could there was a blinding light and a scream from Patrick.

XXX

_Three Months Later_

Sunset was just beginning to approach when Patrick heard Pete. The sand squished and swished under his feet as he came up to stand behind Patrick. He didn't say anything, only stood there until Patrick felt ready to speak.

Patrick sighed, taking his eyes away from the horizon. “It's time to go, isn't it?” he asked quietly.

A hand came down to rest on his shoulder. “I told you, we could wait a few more minutes,” Pete said, even though it was obvious they couldn't. They were set to go on the second the sun disappeared over the horizon, which left very little time to actually get to that part of the beach.

Patrick threw the stick he was holding out into the water. “They're not going to make it, are they?” he asked.

It was a question that Pete had answered many times before and would answer however many more times Patrick needed it. “I told you, I'm sure they got your message. It was gone from your normal hiding spot, on the private beach right?” Patrick nodded. “Then they probably just couldn't meet here first. You said that the water around here was bad for merfolk right?” Patrick nodded again. “Then they probably just decided to meet you at the pier.”

Patrick nodded, although it was clear that he didn't believe this. He took a deep breathe, drawing all the air into his lungs that he possibly could before releasing it out in a giant _whoosh_. A second later he stood up, a gigantic smile on his face. It was surprisingly genuine, and again Pete felt his heart skip a beat when he saw it.

“Let's go, I think Joe's going to actually to kill us if we're late this time,” Patrick said with a laugh.

“Hey, we were only about five minutes late last time! And besides, rockstars are always late, even to their own shows,” Pete said, smiling back at him.

Patrick gave him a disbelieving look. “I don't think a few more gigs than usual and a _potential_ and _hypothetical_ album quite makes us rockstars,” he said, clearly amused by his boyfriend.

“They're only potential and hypothetical for now. You're thinking to small, Tricky! We're gonna be rock stars and everyone's gonna be jealous because I get you all to myself!” Pete leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Patrick's lips.

A blush was steadily forming over Patrick's cheeks. “Shut up, let's just go to the concert,” he said with an embarrassed mumble and pushed up his new glasses. That was Pete's favorite thing, embarrassing him until he was beet red and stuttering.

Without another word Pete took his hand and the two of them walked back up to the van.

XXXX

The entire beach area around the pier was lit up with lights strung all over the place, causing it to look like multi-colored stars had fallen all across the beach. There were some familiar faces as Patrick peeked about from behind the background curtain of the stage that announced the band of _Fall Out Boy_ , but none that he was particularly waiting for. He knew Hayley and her friends would be there, as well as some of the friends from the “scene” and a few more bands, hell even Alex was there, but so far not the people that he had actually hoped to see. Granted, he wasn't looking for their faces in the crowd, rather over it and out to the sea.

“Ready for this, Stump?” Joe asked, slinging an arm around him. The weight of him almost caused the two of them to tumble out from behind the curtain. 

Patrick spun around, startled from Joe's sudden entrance. His eyes surveyed Joe, taking in his guitar already strapped to him. “You still really love that nickname, don't you?” he asked.

Joe shrugged. “Well, what kind of name is Patrick for a merman?”

“And Stump is just a great name for a merman or a human,” Andy said, the sarcasm dripping off his words.

“What can I say, the name fits him,” Joe said, shrugging again. He gave Patrick a quick hug before gesturing over to where his own guitar was. “You better get ready, dude.”

Patrick nodded and and walked over to his guitar. It was silver and his own, not one of Joe's hand me downs or a guitar Pete had been able to scare up for a performance. He'd never been more grateful for an inanimate object in his life.

Pete had presented it to him after he'd been human again for about a month or so. It had been a surprise, a happy one granted but a surprise none the less, when he'd been engulfed in a bright white light and felt the same pain of his fin being ripped in half as before. The next time he woke up he was laying beside Pete on the shore, his calloused fingers running through his hair and soft words being whispered to him.

Patrick shook his head, trying to displace the thoughts. He'd been sick for around a month after becoming human again, too weak from whatever effects the curse had had on him before and it was one of the last things he wanted to think about. He'd had to redevelop an appetite, relearn to walk, and had to regain his vocal strength after being silent for so long. Everything had made him weak, as well, which required Pete's help with almost everything. Thankfully, Pete had been more than willing to help him out, hardly ever leaving his side. This could at least make him smile.

Joe and Andy had also come together to help him adjust better. The first time Joe saw Patrick after he got his legs back he'd flung himself at Patrick and took the both of them to the floor, easily knocking Patrick off of the bed. He'd had to be pried off by Andy, who managed to hold himself back, but just barely.

He could still remember Joe asking how the hell he got back, giving him a look like he might suddenly lose his legs again, a fear that was secretly shared by Patrick.

Patrick had opened his mouth and paused, a smile on his face. “We broke the curse, I guess. That's what Gerard said, right?” Patrick asked, looking at Pete.

Pete scratched the back of his head. “Uh, yeah I guess. He said that it still counted? You still managed to kiss your-” he paused for a second, a huge blush spreading across his face, “your, uh, true love and all that.”

Andy and Joe had shared brief looks before bursting out laughing and nudging each other. “Aw, look at the love birds, Andy,” Joe had teased. “I see them. What a cute couple,” Andy had said. Both of their tones had had the perfect amount of teasing and hopefulness that Patrick was grateful for.

The next month had went pretty much the same, surrounded by Pete, Joe, and Andy helping him to become human again. Occasionally Pete would leave for an hour or so and come back with a smug look on his face, claiming that he had a plan in mind.

It wasn't until he got the guitar that he understood what it was. 

“So I know we've been kinda keeping you cooped up and not letting you do much,” Pete said as he approached him. He'd been out for a bit longer than usual, this time allowing Patrick to wake up alone on the couch. There was something he was clearly hiding behind his back, the shit eating grin on his face told him that if his posture hadn't.

“So I figured this would give us a reason to let you out of the apartment for more than a walk to Joe and Andy's,” he said, pulling the silver guitar out from behind his back.

Patrick stared at it, enchanted by the shine and beauty of the instrument. It was clearly not new, probably something second hand from a music store, but it was clearly cared for. It even had new strings on it, which Patrick could tell Pete had done.

Patrick took the guitar with shaking hands. This was the most wonderful gift that anyone could have ever given him. Tears fell from his eyes, and he roughly rubbed them away with the back of his hand.

Panic crossed Pete's face. “Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong? Do you not like it?” he asked.

Patrick griped the guitar close to him with one arm and flung the other around Pete's neck. “I love it, Pete. Thank you, so much,” he whispered, hoping that he understood exactly what the gift meant.

“Oh thank God.” Pete sagged with relief and hugged Patrick close to him.

After a few moments Patrick pulled away. “What did you mean when you said 'get out of the house more'?” he asked.

The glint in Pete's eye returned. It was a good look on him, a happy look. 

“Oh, well, I just figured that you might be interested in playing some shows? Maybe even a benefit concert for your finned friends?” he said, his voice high and questioning like he didn't know the answer.

Patrick froze for a second, staring at Pete in disbelief. “You're serious?” he asked.

“If you're interested I've already got a few shows lined up, and if they go over well we could be headlining the benefit concert on the pier for the protection of merfolk. Apparently Andy's little friends really did have connections after all,” he said, all serious but still smiling as wide as ever. “Now, it wouldn't be for a couple of months, so you'd still be able to build up strength and we'd be able to practice like crazy, but what do you say?”

“What do I say? Are you crazy, of course I say yes!” Patrick said, once more jumping towards Pete and wrapping his arms around him. His first show had went amazingly well, even if the rest of the night had not exactly gone according to plan, and he'd honestly been hoping for another night like that again.

There was something picking at the back of his mind though about it, relating back to their first concert together.

“Who's going to be out singer though? There's no way Alex would ever come back and sing for us,” he said. He tried so hard to make it sound nonchalant, as if _he_ and Pete's slight over reaction hadn't been exactly what drove him away in the first place.

Pete let out a nervous laugh. “Well, I was thinking, why get someone like Alex, when we've got our very own singer right here?” he said, a slight hesitation in his voice. It was clear that he was worried as to how Patrick was going to take this statement, and for good reason.

A strange, cold feeling came over Patrick. “Pete,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “There is nothing more I would love than to sing for the band, but I'm pretty sure I don't have my powers anymore.”

A small laugh bubbled out of Pete. “Patrick, I don't care about your “powers”. I don't want the Siren version of you. I want the version of your that loves the music we make as much as we do. That knows these songs by heart and even helped to create them. I believe in you, Patrick.”

Patrick loved hearing that someone believed in him. Better yet, he loved hearing that _Pete_ believed in him. But he couldn't help the feeling of anxiety in his chest as he thought about singing.

“Pete,” Patrick said, his voice almost as low as a whisper. “I don't even now if I can sing anymore. Not, like, Siren singing either, just regular old singing.” He stared into Pete's eyes. The light from the window was turning them into a honey color, making him never want to look away. Pete's face was one of confusion and then understanding. He took a deep breath, trying to find the correct words to reassure Patrick in any way he possibly could.

“I haven't sang since the incident involving the hunters,” Patrick said, running his fingers over the strings of the guitar, enjoying the way the sound helped to calm him in a way he couldn't describe. “I... I didn't want to go on living in the ocean anymore, rarely glimpsing the sun the way you humans get to. I didn't want to go on knowing that I was never going to get to see you or Joe or Andy again. I was never going to go on the mountains or watch TV or play video games or eat the stupid late night breakfasts we sometimes do. So I stopped singing. I knew what it would mean for me, and I just...stopped.”

Pete stared in disbelief. It was one thing to hear these things from Gerard and Brendon, but a completely different thing to hear it from Patrick himself. He had never wanted to hear that someone he cared about as much as he does about Patrick was experiencing anything similar to what he had. 

Without even thinking, Pete leaned over and threw his arms around Patrick's neck. The guitar was shoved into the crease of the couch and out of Patrick's hands in order to make more room for Pete. “I'm so sorry, Trick,” he mumbled into Patrick's neck, rubbing his hand up and down his back in soothing circles. “I wish I could have been there for you. But I'm here now, and you're here now,” he said.

Patrick hesitantly wrapped his arms around Pete. All month he'd been trying to hold it in, hold in his fears, but now that Pete was here he couldn't help himself. He could feel himself shaking, and could only curl up into Pete even more.

“What if I can't sing anymore? What if it's gone?” Patrick asked quietly, the tears causing his voice to shake.

Pete laughed and Patrick could also here the tears in his voice. “Patrick, Patrick. I don't care about that. So what if you can't sing? I can't sing, either! We're a perfect pair!” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

They stayed there for a few moments until Pete leaned back. “You're an amazing composer and guitar player. And I love you for so much more than your voice,” he said. One look at Patrick's quivering lip and watery blue eyes and he flung himself back at him.

“Besides, like you said. We can try to get another singer. We can try out a million and one people if that's what you want,” Pete said. “Anything that will make you happy.”

They had sat there until the sun went down and the room was nearly pitch black. Eventually, Pete pulled back, leaning away to turn on the lamp. Patrick wiped at his eyes to try and hide any and all traces that he had been crying, despite the fact that Pete was more than well aware of it. The giant tear stain on the front of his shirt told him that.

Patrick moved his fingers over the neck of the guitar. He could feel Pete's eyes staring at him, watching him carefully. 

“I want to try,” Patrick said. He could sense that Pete probably thought it was a bad idea, at least for the time being, but he didn't protest when Patrick moved the guitar into his lap. “I want to try, just to see at least.”

Pete nodded his head, rubbing a had down his face. “Sure, yeah, of course,” he said. He clasped his hands under his chin, staring intently at Patrick. He hoped that his stare wasn't making Patrick nervous, but there was nothing that he could really do. He was just as worried about what might happen.

Patrick drew in a deep breath, nerves getting to him. What would he do if his singing voice was officially gone? He'd put off trying it for so long once he'd become human, afraid that he wouldn't be the same anymore. Despite the fact that he had wanted to return to the human world, he wasn't sure if he was ready to give it that aspect of himself for good.

He paused again, hesitating to continue. “This is still really rough, regardless of what my voice sounds like. I didn't have much time to work on this, and-” Pete interrupted him with a wave.

“Patrick, I'm sure it's going to be just as amazing as you are,” he reassured.

He smiled, trying to take Pete's words to heart and believe him.

“Okay, well then, here I go,” Patrick said and began to strum again.

_“I don't know where you're going, but do you got room for one more troubled soul,”_ Patrick sang.

Pete's eyes widened in adoration and amazement, not that Patrick could see it. He'd closed his eyes the second he'd started playing, unable to stand the idea of seeing Pete's face while he played. He knew that he would easily be able to tell which was the truth and couldn't stand that.

Instead, he focused on the way Pete's face had looked that night they had laid side by side in bed and Pete had sang this song to him, about what he wished had happened that night. Somehow, he reached the end of the song without a hitch. His voice was shaky and sad sounding which seemed to fit the song in a strange way Patrick hadn't predicted.

_“This is the road to ruin and we're starting at the end,”_ Patrick finished, keeping his eyes closed.

He held his breath, holding himself perfectly in place. He'd only been thinking one thing throughout the entire time, aside from his fear about whether or not he still had a voice to sing to, and if he opened them then he would have his answer.

Pete's arms were around him again for what felt like the millionth time that day, smashing the guitar between them. “That was beautiful, Trick. If I wasn't already in love with you, I certainly would be after a performance like that.” Pete leaned back, brushing the tears away from Patrick's cheek with his thumb.

Patrick's tears fell even heavier at that. He reached up and grabbed a hold of Pete's hand and pressed it even closer to his face, rubbing it against his cheek.

“You really think my voice is still good, still worth being a singer?” Patrick asked.

Pete leaned forward, so much he nearly pressed himself into Patrick's lap. “Yes, Patrick, yes of course. You're voice is amazing, your playing is amazing, the whole thing just blew me away, really.”

A smile came to Patrick's face, even though it seemed like his tears were falling even harder. “Well, I guess I got my answer about whether or not I still could sing like a Siren,” Patrick said.

“What do you mean?” Pete asked.

Patrick let out a little laugh, this one sounding happier than any before. “I just kept thinking that I wanted you to kiss me then entire time I was singing, and I still haven't got a kiss yet.”

Pete grinned, tears falling down his face as well. “Trick,” he said, “you know that you don't need to Sing to me to make me want to kiss you.” He leaned forward, pushing Patrick back until he was laying down on the couch with the guitar on the floor. “All you want to do is ask.”

Patrick smiled up at him. “Kiss me?”

Pete grinned. “Of course.”

“Of course, we're ready!” Pete's voice filtered through Patrick's memories, drawing him back into the real world and out of his head. When he glanced at Pete he was talking to some of the stage crew, who were shaking their heads good naturedly at Pete.

Patrick tried to focus on here in the moment. Already the crowd was growing restless and excited for their appearance, just like they had before all of their other concerts. Ever since that moment on the couch with Pete they had been full throttle on getting work done, whether it be shows or working on their potential album. 

Despite all of the concerts that they had done before, this was supposed to be the most important one. This was supposed to be the one that all of his merfolk friends were supposed to be able to attend, even if it was from a distance. He knew that they had moved as planned after he had become human again, he'd just hoped that they would have gotten his letter still and been able to attend.

“Ready to rock and roll?” Pete asked. He smiled and placed a quick kiss on Patrick's cheek as he strapped on his bass. 

Patrick reached around into his back pocket and grabbed the black hat Pete had gave him before his first concert. He slid it down over his eyes and smiled at him. “I am now.”

Pete flicked the front of the cap up, allowing him to see Patrick's face better. “You know, one of these times you're going to have to take this thing off so I can stare into your eyes while you work the stage.”

He blushed and pulled the cap back down. “Maybe one day,” he said and turned to Joe and Andy. “You guys ready?”

Both of them nodded. The lights in the front dimmed a bit, signaling their timed appearance on stage. The four of them walked out in unison, each of them getting into their places.

Despite Patrick's better instincts, he looked up at the crowd. He looked past the twinkling lights and the small bonfires people had lit, past the sparklers in teenagers and children's hands. He looked past them, all the way out to the ocean he had called home for his entire life, it's surface beautifully reflecting the moonlight.

Out in the water was a flash of purple, followed by several other colors flipping in a timed pattern. To anyone else it would almost look like a reflection from the moon or fireworks or something, but Patrick knew better.

He took Pete's ball cap off and shoved it into his back pocket as quickly as he could. He wanted to be as easily identifiable as possible.

Pete smiled coyly to his feet, trying to act as though he hadn't seen it. He had though, which made Patrick even happier.

Suddenly the lights kicked on and Andy came in, the rest of the band quickly joining in. The pizza guy was dancing his ass off at the side of the stage, waiting for his perfect moment to join in, too. Tonight he was finally going to be repaid for his broken boat.

Patrick stared out as far as he possibly could, thankful once again for Andy's eyes being terrible as well. He opened his mouth and sang directly out to the specks in the distance, the most familiar specks in his entire life aside from the people on stage with him.

_“Am I more than you bargained for yet?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's done. The one year anniversary for this story is coming up, and here I am, finally finishing it. You guys have no idea how much this means to me, to be able to finish this story and have had so many people supporting me throughout it. You guys have been with me for a whole year of my life, and I'm sorry I made you wait so long for this last update. I hope with it being nearly 20 pages on my original document helps to make up for that!
> 
> Seriously, though you guys, thank you. I haven't enjoyed writing something in a fandom as much as I have enjoyed writing this in a long time. This is also one of the longest pieces I've worked on in a long time. Thank you guys for encouraging me every single time by being the most awesome audience of readers I've ever had before. 
> 
> To anyone who needs me, whether it be any more questions about this story to prompt requests, to anything else, you can find me over on my tumblr with the same name.
> 
> Thank you to the people who have been here since day one a year ago this week, to those of you who have joined along the way, to those who will find this story in the future. I hope this story has been as enjoyable to read as it was to write.
> 
> So long, and goodbye until the next story!


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